Lockdown serendipity

Music is therapeutic and the discovery of new (to me) music, and re-discovering old favourites, has been a boon during my self-isolation.

I was watching an episode of the Star Trek-lite TV show The Orville and heard the lead character playing a song whilst piloting a small spacecraft - a shuttle really. His dark matter cartographer co-pilot (who later turns out to be an undercover Krill soldier - don't ask) asked what is was and he explained it was Billy Joel. I think it was She's Always A Woman.

I really enjoyed the clip and I decided to investigate Billy Joel on Spotify. I don't recall ever having heard a Billy Joel song and it was a revelation to listen to Piano Man, such a refreshing, cheerful and foot-tapping number. It is now a staple of my listening, if I need to cheer myself up, or to stop myself worrying about viruses, the R number and how to keep safe whilst meeting a friend.

I often come across music I didn't know as a result of reading an article, hearing music in TV shows or seeing a Spotify recommendation (even in TV adverts!), and I eagerly add those I enjoy most to one of my playlists. One of my all-time favourites is the rendering of O Holy Night by Trombone Shorty (Troy Andrews playing amazing trumpet riffs) and his pals in a Christmas episode of Studio 60 on the Sunset Strip, as a post-Katrina tribute to New Orleans: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Etflv7R6NKA

This burst of musical exploration has reminded me that I have rather lapsed in listening to music. So a lot of my lockdown listening has been re-uniting myself with old favourites. They all have emotional effects which enable me to keep balanced.

The calming murmurings of the Adagietto from Mahler's 5th symphony, the sheer elation and majesty of the climax of the same composer's Resurrection symphony and Anne Hathaway's immensely moving I Dreamed A Dream from Les Miserables all offer me something which I need. John Lennon's anarchic ramblings in Imagine give me hope.

I am an emotional person and music can really affect me, often by its simplicity, but deeply powerful music such as Mahler symphonies or Wagner operas offer panoramic pictures of life itself which remind me of my own life and, even in these difficult times, how blessed I have been and how much I still have to look forward to.

I'm not spending £4.99 on wood pigeons

As readers of this blog (there's an assumption there that there exists more than one; or even more than zero) will know, I have been sharing my lockdown with a variety of attractive garden birds. Or not, because all the charming little robins, sparrows, tits and finches are consistently bullied away by a gross pair of wood pigeons, who proceed to gobble the seed which I have purchased at my (now open) local garden centre.

How do I know it's the same pigeons every time? Actually I don't but never let the facts get in the way of a good story.

I'm wondering whether there is a metaphor here for our lockdown itself; memories of all those crazies stockpiling toilet rolls as though, if the world were going to end, at least their backsides (and only theirs) would be clean. The pigeons gobble up the food then sit there - waiting - and eventually start grooming. Not grooming each other; that's what apes do and there are, at the moment, none of those on my bird table. If that generous Mr G is going to keep supplying delicious food, we are going to keep eating it. And if we are full (they actually look very full), we will sit here so that no little birds can share our goldmine; we'll just stockpile.

This is a tale of greed, arrogance and sociopathic behaviour. The little guys don't get a look in; we are most definitely not all in this together (ask Emily Maitlis).

It's not that I can't afford the £4.99 for the bag of seed. I have all that cash saved from not going to the coffee shop, café, pub and cinema. And a bundle of actual cash, unused for months. I have tried all kinds of seeds and nuts (no fat balls - that's disgusting; I can't feed the birds anything I wouldn't feed my grandkids); doesn't make any difference, the bullies scoff the lot.

So finally I am going to get one of those hanging thingies with net coverings. The tits will love it; the rest, especially the wood pigeons, can go starve!

Only 15 days to go...

...until the footie season re-starts. At least the Premier League (the Germans started  10 days ago but then they always get to the beach first).

There are 92 matches still to be played and all of them will be on some TV channel or other (thank you Sky, for my Sky Sports refund - which I didn't get - now you're going to allow the hoi polloi to see for free matches which I have paid for? Seriously?).

Two catch-up matches will be played at 6pm and 8pm on Wednesday 17 June. Thereafter the schedule will be:

Fridays: 20:00

Saturdays: 12:30, 15:00, 17:30 and 20:00

Sundays: 12:00, 14:00, 16:30 and 19:00

Mondays: 20:00

Tuesdays, Wednesdays and Thursdays: 18:00 and 20:00

So no footie-free days until 25 July! How cool is that? Get the beers in.

The Camel Trail

I walked the Camel Trail today.

Obviously not all 17 miles of it; I'm a novice walker.

It's a very peaceful, tranquil trail. Given the 4ft 8½in gauge of the old London and South West Railway, whose track it follows, it's easy to see that the width of the trail, at around 2 metres, is perfect for you-know-what.

There are tantalising glimpses of the River Camel through the trees:

Later on, after Wadebridge, the trail is a riverside walk all the way to Padstow.

There's a reminder of the railway days:

(in case you can't see it, that's a platform. Grogley Halt)

And a throwback to pre-war industrial infrastructure:

(I always liked pylons - didn't someone write a poem about them? Spender?)

I reached a point where a bridge allows me to cross the river. Oh, no it doesn't.

Surely there must be a café, Ah, here we are.

Nope, also closed. Guys, could you just open to sell a weary traveller an ice cream? Silence. Maybe Wednesday, when  they are allowed to re-open?

More thirst-inducing temptation:

I'll definitely be back there at some point.

There is a lot to be said for this walk. I was amazed how few people were there. Plenty of cyclists, even one very docile horse and rider. It's mostly gravel and, for me, the best thing about it is - it's flat! No hills, not even a tiny incline.

There are only two things missing from this walk:

1. A pub

2. Another pub (it was a baking hot day!)

I managed just under 2½ miles each way. That's a long walk for me. Next week I might go to Wadebridge to walk a different stretch of the trail.

Reading queue

I like having a few books on the go at the same time. Or, if not that, some queued up ready for once I have finished my present read.

I am currently reading the final book of The Three Body Problem trilogy - Death's End. Sounds gloomy? It's not; it's inspiring.The whole trilogy is captivating, genuine science fiction. Brief summary (slight spoiler): an alien civilization (Trisolaris - the three suns of the title) is discovered four light years away. They are struggling with constant sequences of planetary destruction and reconstruction, as a result of being "thrown" between the three suns, and will eventually be subsumed into one of the suns. Once they get 'pinged' by an Earth signal, they figure out it might be a nice place to settle so they send an invasion fleet, which will arrive on Earth in 400 years. There is a lot of astrophysical text ("hard science fiction") and we follow (sometimes changing times forwards and backwards) Earth's scientific development and the scientists involved.

One of the my best reads in a long time. It's a fascinating study of how humanity deals with an alien threat and how it evolves as a result. Written by Liu Cixin and translated by Ken Liu and Joel Martinsen, the books have won many awards. 

Next will be Freakonomics: A Rogue Economist Explores the Hidden Side of Everything by Steven Levitt and Stephen Dubner.

To be followed by Claire Tomalin's biography of Samuel Pepys "The Unequalled Self".

Lockdown can lead to cultural exploration!

Dukes Of Hazzard

Why do we need dukes? Do they serve any purpose today? If so, should we create more of them? By we, of course, I mean Her Maj. Who may be reading this some time soon. So some advice perhaps...

Historically, dukedoms have been used by monarchs of various countries to reward a valued service performed by someone. A military commander, for instance, who won a key battle. They become high nobles in the monarch's virtual court, below princes but above earls [there are technically marquesses in between but I don't think we have had one of those since the 16th century]. They are generally hereditary, and attached to some locality, over which they nominally "rule" - their Duchy.

So you would imagine that the Dukes themselves would feel a responsibility to live in their duchy, much like Members of Parliament often (well maybe sometimes) move to their constituencies. So how are we in the UK doing on that test?

Start from the top - the Queen is technically Duke of Lancaster. Why? Did she go to Uni there? No constituency residence.

The Duke of Edinburgh clearly thought "that's a cool place; the Athens of the North, they had dukes in  Athens didn't they? [they did]; I'll go and live there". But he didn't.

The Duke of York obviously thought "there's a great train museum there; I'll go and live next door". But he didn't.

The Duke of Cambridge  presumably studied at the Uni there. No he didn't.

The Duke of Sussex lives in California. Enough said.

The Duke of Gloucester [who he? you ask] lives in Kensington Palace and has a country home [obv] in Northamptonshire.

The Duke of Kent also lives in the very-crowded Kensington Palace, with a country home ...oh who cares?

Any more? Yes, there are 24 other Dukes in the UK. Mostly in England and Scotland but a couple in Ireland (one of those in the Republic, which is weird). None in Wales - just how united is our kingdom, your maj?

It is notable that there is no Duke of St Austell - there's definitely an opportunity here for a new appointment, ma'am. I'm available. But there is a Duke of Cornwall; it's a rather seedy pub not far from me, opposite a very decent BYO Indian restaurant. Oh, wait, I'm terrible sorry, Prince of Wales, that's you! I didn't realise you had two titles.

[Comment from the heir to the throne: I have eight]

What a ridiculous little country we are! Rich people who are related to the Queen get to live where they want and lord it over a distant community with which they have no connection.

Do I have some advice for our monarch? It kind feels a bit late for that; these things have been going for six hundred years or so.

Come the revolution...