Icarus

As everyone knows, Icarus had some wings made by his father, Daedalus, out of wax. As do the young, he ignored his father's advice not to fly too near the sun and...

Oops. "What did I tell you, son?" This is by Jacob Peter Gowy in the 17th century. It is credited to Gowy but is remarkably similar to one painted by Rubens. Mm.

Enough of fine art. I recently read a book The Rodchenkov Affair: How I Brought Down Putin's Secret Doping Empire by the eponymous Dr Grigory Rodchenkov. In parallel there is a movie Icarus. I watched the movie after reading the book, but more on that later.

Rodchenkov was a Russian chemist who rose to become the Director of Russia's Anti Doping Centre. By his own confession, his job involved not only research and development into methods for detecting athletes who were taking proscribed performance-enhancing drugs but also, on behalf of the Russian state, devising protocols to ensure that the country's athletes did not test positive for those drugs. He succinctly describes the process as "doublethink", referencing George Orwell's 1984.

The book, written after he defected to the US, is a detailed account of everything he did and everybody who was directly or (as was allegedly Russian President Putin) indirectly involved. It culminates in the Winter Olympic Games in Sochi, Russia in 2014. The planning leading up to it included the 2012 Olympics in London, which he describes as "the dirtiest in history", as a result of 126 negative tests subsequently, with reanalysis with later methodology, shown to be positive.

He describes Sochi as 'the biggest sports scandal the world has ever seen'. He recounts in painstaking detail all the preparations for a massive sting operation, the purpose to ensure that the event was an untainted success for Russia's athletes and the nation. The drugs taken by the athletes in the lead-up period; taking and storing clean urine samples before doping, to be swapped with on the day samples before testing; falsification of records. This is written with a straight face: he knows what he is doing, he knows the extent of Russia's state-sponsored doping regime, he just carries on doing his job with vigour and apparently without remorse.

Later, as the net closes in, he flees to the US and collaborates with Bryan Fogel, a film director and talented amateur cyclist, on what becomes Icarus. Fogel had been working on a film as an exposé of doping in professional cycling but he becomes fascinated by Rodchenkov's story and revelations. The film centres around interviews with Rodchenkov and, driven by Rodchenkov's Orwell fascination, the narrative is punctuated with quotations, starting with "During times of universal deceit, telling the truth becomes a revolutionary act". Rodchenkov's book, written after the release of the film, also makes frequent use of 1984: "There was truth and there was untruth, and if you clung to the truth even against the whole world, you were not mad".

In the book's introductory note, Rodchenkov says "What follows is not an attempt to make excuses for my actions, nor to justify them. It strives to be one thing above all: honest. I will not shy away from giving a full and candid account of what I did, and nor do I ask you to forgive me".

Icarus won an Oscar for Best Documentary Feature in 2018. The book won the William Hill Sports Book of the Year 2020.

In the end, do I forgive him? No. Rodchenkov is clearly proud of what he did: the achievement of being the best in his field, and creating a spectacularly successful operation to cheat the world of sport, athletes and fans. His claim to be honest is belied by Orwell's truth/untruth observation; he created untruths. Factual yes; honest, no; truthful, no.

So, you ask, should I read the book first or the movie? Normally this is an easy question for me. Generally I would read a book then be disappointed in the movie, because a movie necessarily can't display the subtleties of the written word. In this case though, I think you could easily do it either way round. I read the book first but if I had seen the movie first I would have been stimulated to read the book, in order to experience the full detail of everything.

You could possibly read the book  and not bother with the film, but seeing Rodchenkov himself sheds extra light onto the stage. Where the book is dry, the film brings the person and his actions to life. Both were extremely enjoyable for me and I definitely recommend them, even to people don't particularly like sport.

The Census

Census Day in the UK is 21 March 2021. Got my form. 65 questions to answer. If you have 5 people in your household, that will be 269 questions. You should manage that just in time for the next census, in 2031. Like painting the Forth Bridge.

So, starting. Question H1: who usually lives here? Tick all that apply. There are 10 options. Although option 1 "Me" is the obvious one, I diligently check all the others in case there is a "family of swallows nesting in the eaves" option. Question H4: who else is staying here overnight on 21 March 2021? Ah, so maybe I'm not supposed to do this yet. I go back to the cover page, which clearly states "complete the census on 21 March 2021 or as soon as possible after". Yep, that's me not bothering to read the instructions.

9 days to go....

Censuses (is that the correct plural? Censi?) have been conducted in the UK since 1841 - or 1801 if you count unofficial versions. And you thought it was the Domesday Book in 1086! According to the Anglo-Saxon Chronicle, William The Conqueror "sent he his men over all England into each shire; commissioning them to find out 'How many hundreds of hides were in the shire, what land the king himself had, and what stock upon the land; or, what dues he ought to have by the year from the shire.'" So a cow census really.

Two hundred years later, the Hundred Rolls included enquiries commissioned by Edward I to record the adult population for judicial and taxation purposes. A proper census.

dailytelegraph.com.au tells me that "in Babylon in about 3800BC a team of men headed out to tally up the numbers of men, women, children, livestock, slaves, butter, milk, honey and vegetables in the kingdom. The primary reason was to figure out how much food was needed to feed the population, but the figures also gave an idea of how many men were available for military service and how much they could be taxed without starving them." So, frankly, we were a bit behind in the census stakes. But, given today's sensitivities, I bet there won't be a 2021 question about slaves.

Who decided the census would be every ten years? And why is it always in a year ending in one? [I'm not even going to mention Tottenham Hotspur here - be quiet, Simon!]  There are no answers to this; someone tossed a coin.

I checked the headline facts from the 2011 UK census, to see if there were any interesting revelations. Nope.

Censuses exist to allow the government to control our lives even more than they already do. 47% of UK households keep pigeons! Let's put a pigeon tax in the next budget.

in nine days time I shall do my civic (and legal) duty and complete the online form. You will be utterly relieved to know that I shall not again post about censuses! Except maybe in ten year's time. Something to look forward to, readers....

The Irishman

The Irishman is not just a movie; it's a three and a half hour movie experience. Robert De Niro stars in Martin Scorsese's epic adaptation of Charles Brandt's book I Heard You Paint Houses. The book tells the true story of the alleged mafia hitman Frank Sheeran and the tale is narrated by De Niro as Sheeran, who describes his associations with, and actions on behalf of, infamous mobsters of the fifties and sixties.

Prominent among these is the teamster boss Jimmy Hoffa. I remember, as a teenager, hearing about Hoffa, his corrupt practices, support of Richard Nixon and antagonism to the Kennedys. This was the period when John Kennedy was elected President, appointed his brother Bobby as Attorney General, and subsequently became involved with the infamous Bay Of Pigs shambles. It was a time when the world saw hope in a "new dawn" under the leadership of a young, charismatic American President, but there were always rumours of shady underworld associations, including in his assassination. The film overtly references these events as the background to its portrayal of, literally, mob rule.

It's a monster of a film and the epithet "epic" is warranted. It's a men's tale, with little in the way of female casting. I suppose in a way it glorifies violence and corruption and Sheeran displays no remorse. But there is a sadness and inevitability of decline as the years, and society's evolution, move on.

The title of the  book is in reference to saying, "I heard you paint houses"—a mob code meaning: I heard you kill people, the "paint" being the blood that splatters when bullets are fired into a body. This tells you everything about the film. It has echoes of The Godfather and The Sopranos - and, I guess, pretty much every mobster film/series ever made. What distinguishes it is the real life context.

De Niro, and his co-stars Al Pacino and Joe Pesci, were in their late 70s when they shot the film and some remarkable CGI "de-aging" took place in production. It's an A list cast with an A list director but lost out to Parasite in the 2019 Oscars. I thought both films were excellent and I couldn't choose one or the other. In fact I could watch them again - which is rare for me.

Also rare for me is not whingeing about any film over two and half hours. In this case, it just seems to need the time and never drags.

Much recommended. If you enjoy gangster movies.

St Piran's Day

Yesterday was St Piran's Day, celebrating all things Cornish. I received an email from Cornwall Council reminding me, and telling me that I could identify as Cornish nationality on the census form due in the next few days. I guess there are all kinds of options on the form for me to identify as. I'll let you know when it arrives.

cornishcottageholidays.co.uk tells me "Across Cornwall there are parades, dancing, singing and music to honour the Cornish patron saint.". Not so much where I live.

St Piran was a 4th/5th/6th [uncertain] century Irish abbot. He was exiled by the KIngs of Ireland and arrived near Newquay [where he no doubt enjoyed much carousing, as you do]. The place became Perranporth (Piran's Bay).

According to cornishcottageholidays.co.uk, "St Piran was also known for liking a good drink, which is where the phrase ‘as drunk as a Perraner’ is believed to have come from. Legend has it he survived to the grand old age of 206 years old.". I always said Proper Job was a strong beer!

St Piran was involved in the discovery of tin and is therefore the patron saint of tin miners and, by extension, all miners and all of us in Cornwall. catholicreadings.org is unable to say when or by whom he was beatified.

Here's a group of my mates singing the Cornish National Anthem yesterday:

Stirring stuff, I think you will agree.

Dorgi

My royal correspondent tells me that a dorgi is a cross between a corgi and a daschund. She knows because the Queen has one. thedogdigest.com tells me that reasons for not mixing these two breeds include:

• Requires Significant Amount of Daily Outdoor Exercise. At 94, I have a feeling that Her Maj won't be doing that herself - but I shouldn't be prejudiced by my own attitude to exercise
• Has a Tendency to be Loud. Isn't that true of all dogs? Although to be fair I never heard my friend Tony's pug Lily utter a sound. Maybe they should cross breed corgis with pugs*. Anyway, Her Maj might need to turn down her hearing aid

This is a lockdown dorgi:

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Apparently, if you cross a corgi with a husky, you get a horgi. No, I'm serious!

Crossing an Australian Shepherd with a Poodle gives an AussiePoo. That's what Buzzfeed says. No sniggering!

What do you call a cross between a zebra and a donkey? Easy, it's a zonkey.

A cama is a cross between a camel and a llama.

What amazes me is how these come about. Why do they do this? And who are "they" anyway? Or are animals in the wild just not picky?

*And by the way, a corgi+pug mix is a porgi. Not a porky, and I don't tell those.

Enough.

Quintuple meter

Those of you who, like me, were children of the 60s, will remember Dave Brubeck's Take Five:

Quintuple meter - usually 5/4 or 5/8 time - is surprisingly common in music of all ages.

The First Delphic Hymn, by Athenaeus (2nd century BC) is in the quintuple Cretic meter:

Twenty one centuries later, here's the German baritone Hermann Prey singing Carl Loewe's 1844 ballad Prinz Eugen der edle Ritter in 5/4 time:

Tchaikovsky's Pathetique Symphony (no. 6) also has the main theme of the second movement in 5/4:

I really like this piece of Hindemith - Ludus Tonalis: Fugue in G (1942).It's a jolly 5/8.

I know you youngsters will want something more attuned to your tastes, so here's Taylor Swift in 5/4 mode:

Got a favourite out of these? Let me know.