polling day: ID required (and other political devices)...

I’m currently reading Ferdinand Mount’s book “Big Caesars and Little Caesars” (“how they rise and fall – from Julius Caesar to Boris Johnson”). As a former editor of ‘The Spectator’ and head of Margaret Thatcher’s think-tank, rest assured that he’s no liberal-lefty!!
It’s a fascinating book and well worth reading if you are ‘politically inclined’(!)…
But, with local elections taking place tomorrow (2 May), I thought his comments about the need for the electorate to produce photographic ID at the polling stations in order to cast their votes were timely reminders of one of the ways we’re being manipulated by the Conservative government - just one of five measures* he highlights (apologies for quoting at such length, but I think it’s important):
“Voter suppression:  
But of course in order to exercise power in this exuberant style, the Tories have to acquire power and hang on to it. The first priority is to win the upcoming general election, and prepare for the election after that. What is the best method of improving your chances? First, to adjust the boundaries of the constituencies to maximise the impact of your votes... Then, not only to encourage your voters to turn out by every possible means, but also to discourage the potential voters for the other side, either by preventing them from registering on the electoral roll or to make it difficult for them to cast their votes – so-called ‘voter suppression’. Thirdly, most flagrantly, by stuffing the ballot boxes with votes by people who don’t exist or have already voted or are not qualified to vote…
British general elections… have been remarkably free and fair for a long time – ever since voter personation and other dodges were finally eliminated in Northern Ireland. There has been no substantial evidence of fraud at any recent general elections. Yet the Tories’ 2019 election manifesto included this pledge: ‘We will protect the integrity of our democracy by introducing voter identification to vote at polling stations, stopping postal vote harvesting and measures to prevent any foreign interference with elections’.
All this, now contained in the Elections Act, is an egregious solution to a non-existent problem. It can have one purpose only: to suppress the votes of the poorer and less organised voters who are less likely to possess photo ID. When voter ID was made mandatory in Northern Ireland in 2002, the number of voters on the new register dropped by 120,000 or 10 per cent. This suspicion is confirmed by a second pledge, to make it easier for British expats to vote in parliamentary elections, expiates being plausibly thought far more likely to vote Tory, just as the worst off are more likely to vote Labour. Thus one set of voters whose fortunes do not depend on the actions of the UK is to be encouraged, while a far larger number of voters who do depend – often desperately – on what the British government does or does not do for them is to be discouraged. It is hard to imagine a more flagrant strategy to rig the result. It may be that as holding voter ID becomes more universal over the years, the adverse effect will diminish. But what is clear is that the MOTIVE behind the Elections Bill is to secure party advantage under the cloak of fairness.”
Believe me, I COULD have quoted far more extensively on this and other related subjects (eg. Trump and Johnson don’t emerge in Mount’s book in anything like a ‘good light’!).
Be afraid. Be very afraid!
PS: * The other measures Mount refers to (arising out of the Conservative manifesto for the  2019 general election) relate to the following: ‘Dissolving Parliament’; ‘Sacking MPs’; ‘Sacking civil servants’ and ‘Taming the judges’.

cricket: our summer game…

Yesterday, I went along to watch the final day of the county championship game between Gloucestershire and Middlesex at Bristol (just a 75 bus ride away from home).
It was very good to back watching some cricket again (my first game of the season) but, in truth, it felt a somewhat dispiriting game in so many ways.
Although the odds were clearly on the game ending in a draw, I’d actually thought there was a chance of an exciting finish… say with Gloucestershire chasing 250 runs to win in the afternoon?
Sadly, both captains seemed intent on NOT LOSING rather than pressing for a victory. Gloucestershire (admittedly minus one of their bowlers due to injury) set defensive fields all morning and Middlesex batted on far too long into the afternoon (why on earth didn’t they declare at lunchtime, some 280 runs ahead?). In the end, they left Gloucestershire to score 331 runs to win in 58 overs (5.7 runs/over)… Gloucestershire opted to simply see out the game and finished on 127-3.
Clearly, the cricket authorities see the one-day, 20Twenty and The Hundred games as their main opportunities to make money… which means that the traditional county championship games are horse-shoed into the start and end of the cricket season – which essentially means playing the bulk of championship games in April, May and September – reserving most of June, July and August for the money-spinning games.
Yesterday’s game at Bristol highlighted the stark reality (and perhaps the eventual demise?) of the 4-day game… there were fewer than 100 spectators (it might even have been as little as 50!?)… all wrapped in their waterproofs, fleeces, woolly hats (and even gloves)!
Whatsmore, so far this season, the county championship (in part because it’s being played during the worst weather months) has hardly set the sporting world on fire (understatement!). Out of the 34 games played in the two Divisions, 27 of them have resulted in draws!
Unless changes are made, I can’t see the county championship surviving another 10 years (at most!?).
It might just ‘see me out’, but it’ll mark the sad end of an era… and cricket will never be the same again.
PS: But, hey, on a positive note, I was delighted that I only had to pay £10 for my ticket (I think it’s usually £18-20)… Was this because it was the final day’s play? Whatever the reason, I commend Gloucestershire for the gesture.
Photograph: Your cricket correspondent captured the moment when Gloucestershire started their second innings: Dent c Davies b Helm 0!

march-april 2024 books…

The Farmer’s Wife (Helen Rebanks): I’ve previously read James Rebanks’ brilliant two books about his family’s lives, over several generations, as sheep farmers in the fells of the Lake District. This is his wife’s ‘take’ on their farming life… about the love and pride for the land they farm; for her family (they have four young children); for their way of life and all its trials, tribulations, frustrations and joys. She writes quite beautifully and honestly about the difficulties of keeping things going despite the lack of money, but also about the endless improvisation and determination to achieve their dreams. She’s a full-time mother (with an art degree) dealing with all the day-to-day responsibilities of the school run and school liaison, caring for the domestic animals, cooking, farm administration (including all the form-filling, licences etc) and much, much more. There’s a section in the book in which she describes when the family were effectively ‘cut off’ for several days (no electricity, internet etc) during heavy snowstorms and their resourceful in staying safe/warm and nourished – whilst, at the same time, ensuring that their animals are tracked down and fed – a sobering reminder of what a hard life farming can be. Although I only briefly thumbed through them, the book also contains a whole host of recipes! A very impressive, powerful and frequently quite moving book.
Piccadily Jim (PG Wodehouse): I’m a great admirer of Wodehouse’s writing but must admit that I found this novel (first published in 1917) someone disappointing. The story combines English and American settings and characters (I never find his ‘take’ on Americans anything like as amusing as his descriptions of the English upper classes) and the plot is farcically complicated and, to my mind, unconvincing. It involves impersonations, spies, explosives and kidnapping plans that go awry. As you would imagine with Wodehouse, it’s frequently funny… but also ridiculously far-fetched. Not one of my favourites.
Not A River (Selva Almada): This is our Storysmith bookgroup’s next book (theme: a book from this year’s International Booker Prize Longlist). This from the cover’s blurb: “Three men go out fishing, returning to a favourite spot on a river in Argentina, despite their memories of a terrible accident there years earlier. As a long, sultry day passes, they drink and cook and talk and dance, and try to overcome the ghosts of their past. But they are outsiders, and this intimate, peculiar moment also puts them at odds with the inhabitants of this watery universe, both human and otherwise. The forest presses close, and violence seems inevitable, but can another tragedy be avoided?”. In some ways the men’s pursuit of a massive ray reminded me of Hemingway’s “The Old Man And The Sea” – the book has a similar foreboding atmosphere and sense of anxiety; here, we’re slowly shown glimpses back to the previous tragedy, one that has left its disturbing scars. The novel’s pace is somewhat leisurely (it’s certainly not relaxed!), but its setting of the calm river and the ominous woods simply reinforces the tension. I found it a very impressive book.
The Memoirs Of Sherlock Holmes (Arthur Conan Doyle): I’m no great admirer of Sherlock Holmes’ books, and certainly haven’t read one for some 20 years or more (and actually find the character consistently annoying!), but found this on the shelf of the Oxfam bookshop… This book, first published in 1950, consists of eleven ‘exciting adventures’ (according to the book’s cover!). It’s all very dated, predictable in style and general content (and, at times, somewhat ridiculous), but it makes for easy reading.
Madness Is Better Than Defeat (Ned Beauman): This is our next Blokes’ Bookgroup book. I take an awful lot of pleasure from reading but, after completing just the first 100 pages of this book (it’s 408 pages long), I decided that I’d ‘had enough’ and gave up (over the past 10 years or so, there is just ONE book I didn’t finish… so this will be the second!). The story relates to two rival expeditions, in 1938, setting off for a lost Mayan temple in the jungles of Honduras – one intending to shoot a ‘screwball comedy’ on location there… and the other to disassemble the temple and ship it back to New York. By all accounts, Bauman is a successful and popular writer (reviewers’ quotes on the book’s cover talk about him being ‘clever’, ‘seriously funny’ and ‘almost recklessly gifted’) but, frankly, I’m not a fan. I don’t doubt that I’ve probably missed out on lots of clever storylines and colourful characters, but my spirits have been raised merely by taking the decision to stop reading the book! Due to my impending hip operation, I’ll be unable to attend our bookgroup’s review evening of the novel – which is probably just as well!

february-march 2024 books…

Religion For Atheists (Alain de Botton): This might seem a rather strange additional book to help me in my Lenten reflections, but it was actually referred to in 2012 by Rowan Williams in one his Easter sermons during his time as Archbishop of Canterbury. I’d previously read a couple of de Botton’s books and he’s clearly a clever bloke and an excellent writer and this book didn’t disappoint. Don’t get me wrong – I certainly don’t consider myself to be an atheist (more of a struggle Christian-cum-occasional-agnostic!?). But, in fact, I found the book far more thought-provoking and helpful than a lot of previous books I’ve used during Lents over recent years. He starts by pointing out that secular society has been “unfairly impoverished by the loss of an array and practices associated with various religions”, such as: music, buildings, prayers, rituals, feasts, shrines, pilgrimages, communal meals and illuminated manuscripts of the faiths – primarily, for the purposes of the book, Christianity, Judaism and Buddhism. I found it quite a stimulating, thought-provoking read (even the Church Times apparently found it “surprisingly illuminating”!).
Antarctica (Claire Keegan): These days, I’m a glutton for Keegan’s short stories. Quiet, unfolding, hauntingly beautiful tales (first published in 1999) set in Ireland, USA or Britain. The subject matters vary and don’t always make comfortable reading - murders, betrayals, orphaned children, madness, suicides are just some of the themes in between… with offbeat characters, convincing dialogue, rituals, secrets, seasons and a strong sense of place. I’ve bought a number of her books over recent weeks/months and this (her first collection of short stories) and this is the last one from my bedside table. I’m going to miss my regular Keegan reading sessions… and think I might need to keep dipping into to some of them on a regular basis.
Before The Coffee Gets Cold (Toshikazu Kawaguchi): I’ve read a number of Japanese novels over the past couple of years and they’ve all had a certain ‘quirkiness’. This one was no exception. In a small back alley in Tokyo, there is a cafe which has been serving carefully brewed coffee for more than one hundred years. But this coffee shop offers its customers a unique experience: the chance to travel back in time. We meet four visitors, each of whom is hoping to make use of the cafe's time-travelling offer, in order to: confront the man who left them, receive a letter from their husband whose memory has been taken by early onset Alzheimer's, see their sister one last time, and meet the daughter they never got the chance to know. But the journey into the past does not come without risks: customers must sit in a particular seat, they cannot leave the cafe, and finally, they must return to the present before the coffee gets cold… It’s a rather beautiful, moving story and I was surprised by how much I enjoyed it.
Their Eyes Were Watching God (Zora Neale Hurston): This is our next Storysmith bookgroup book (first published in 1937). Zadie Smith has described it as “one of the very greatest American novels of the twentieth century”. My book’s cover summarises the story pretty well: “When, at 16, Janie is caught kissing shiftless Johnny Taylor, her grandmother swiftly marries her off to an old man with 60 acres. Janie endures two stifling marriages before she finally meets the man of her dreams – who offers not diamonds, but a packet of flowering seeds”. It’s an impressive book, written by a remarkable writer who was born in Alabama at the end of c19th. I found the African-American Vernacular English dialect hard to read (I’m glad I persevered!), but it’s an impressive, powerful, feminist book about a young black girl finding her way into womanhood in the rural, black South. I enjoyed it.
Somewhere Towards The End (Diana Athill): I really like Athill’s writing. I think this is the fifth book of hers I’ve read (first published in 2008, she died in 2019, aged 101) and this one is ‘what it says on the tin’, as it were – a reflection, written in old age, of things she’s experienced through her lifetime. I like her wisdom, fearlessness and her humour… the same sort of feeling I get from reading Jan Morris’s books, for example. I found it a wonderfully optimistic book – marvelling, as she does, at the fact that she only became a writer in her 70s – covering a wide range of topics, including: love; sex; never having been a mother; not giving up driving (despite realising she should); religion (she had no faith); the prospect of death; discovering new enjoyments/skills in old age; non-fiction books; climate change; laziness; oversights… and much more. Rather lovely. 

continuing faith journeying…

This will be something of a rambling blogpost (understatement!)… some reflections, frustrations and acknowledgements.
Having faith. Obviously, the key is in the word ‘faith’. The trouble is I’m lacking it and I’m struggling in something of a continuing spiritual wilderness.
In theory, I remain part of the Community of Saint Stephens in the heart of the city but I’m struggling faith-wise (which has been the case now for several years). So much so that, for the past 18 months or so, I’ve taken a ‘sabbatical’ from attending church services (apart from attending the Midnight Mass at Saint Stephen’s on Christmas Eve). How long this will continue, only time will tell (indefinitely perhaps?).
In the meantime, I’m still trying to find a way of reflecting on the spiritual stuff in my life (albeit far from convincingly!). I continue to go along to our weekly 7.30am café gatherings for Blokes’ Prayer - which has effectively become my ‘church’.
What DO I believe these days?
I was confirmed in the Anglican Church over 50 years ago. I’ve been a Christian ever since but throughout this time, like so many people, my own spiritual journey has been a long and winding road - often fruitful and compelling, but frequently bumpy or feeling as if I’m in a cul-de-sac. At present, I feel as if I’ve come to yet another crossroad on the journey.
 
I still have a faith of sorts… I still believe in God (but maybe ‘my’ God is different to other people’s understanding of the word?). I believe that Jesus did live and was crucified (but I struggle with the virgin birth and even the resurrection)(I know!). I believe that the New Testament stories in the Bible are essentially true (or in part happened?), but I get very frustrated by many of the interpretations (and added details) that have accrued between when the events took place and when they were eventually written down (the same applies to the ‘actual’ words used by Jesus and his disciples etc… and, for instance, exactly what Jesus was thinking when he was in the Garden of Gethsemane or during his 40 days in the wilderness).
Because of these frustrations, I’ve almost stopped reading the Bible (for instance, a lot of Paul’s New Testament letters – or at least some of the interpretations I’ve heard given them in various sermons I’ve listened to – just make me angry!). To take just one example, I followed one of ‘our’ church services online (about a year ago). The Bible text included the following: “For if the dead are not raised, then Christ has not been raised either” and “Now if there is no resurrection, what will those do who are baptized for the dead? If the dead are not raised at all, why are people baptized for them?” - and this message was duly endorsed/repeated in the morning’s talk/sermon. It left me shouting at my laptop screen!
These days (perhaps unfairly, I know), I find other people’s enthusiastic ‘certainties’ when it comes to faith incredibly off-putting (it leaves me feeling both annoyed and exasperated). I don’t believe in an ‘afterlife’ but, somehow, feel that we need to build a ‘heaven’ here on earth (ok, that probably sounds a bit ridiculous to most of you). I can’t really justify or rationalise this, but I do have a sense that our spirits ‘live on’ (again, you’ll probably think I’ve lost my marbles).      
It’s interesting (well, for me at least!) to read some of my blogpost ‘spiritual reflections’ on faith over the years – some dating back 15 years (although my ‘doubts’ go back much further than that).
I’ve been struggling for a long, long time!
I posted the following on my blog in February 2022:
So, on this basis, can I REALLY call myself a Christian? Well, no doubt there will be many who would answer “no” but, interestingly, the BBC commissioned a survey in 2017 (https://www.bbc.co.uk/news/uk-england-39153121) and found that a quarter of people who describe themselves as Christians in Great Britain do not believe in the resurrection of Jesus.
The survey also suggested that:
·         17% of all people believe the Bible version word-for-word (not me)
·         31% of Christians believe word-for-word the Bible version (not me), rising to 57% among "active" Christians (those who go to a religious service at least once a month, as I do)(not me)
·         Exactly half of all people surveyed did not believe in the resurrection at all (not me)
·         46% of people say they believe in some form of life after death (not me) and 46% do not (me)
So, I’m not alone.
I appreciate that I could be accused (with some justification) that I ‘cherry-pick’ what I believe in. But what I find really difficult is being ‘told’ by some leaders of our church communities what my faith should consist of – with, apparently, no room for doubt. Effectively, the message seems to be: “this is what the Bible says, so it must be true (or pretty close)… and if you’re not prepared to accept this, then you can’t really call yourself a Christian”. They might not think that’s what they’re regularly telling me, but that’s message that I receive and/or perceive.
Over the course of Lent 2024, I’ve been continuing my faith exploration. I’ve been reading Rowan Williams’s Easter sermons from his time as Archbishop of Canterbury 2002-12 (book: ‘Choose Life’). I regard Williams as someone worth listening to/reading, but even he says things that I find difficult to accept.
He refers to the Acts of the Apostles, where we are told “God raised Jesus to life”… If it did happen, how do we know it was down to God? Williams goes on to refer to the things Peter, John and Mary Magdalene witnessed on Easter morning (which I can accept), but then continues with the words: “When the universe began, prompted by the will and act of God…”. Again, I would ask how do we know this was down to God?
In another of the sermons, Williams refers to Paul’s first letter to the Corinthians where Paul says “that we shall die and that we shall be raised as Jesus was raised”.
Really? Is this based on something that was, some considerable time later, promised in the Bible?
Obviously, it all comes down to faith… but perhaps it’s just a case of “me of little faith”?
The other book I’ve been using this Lent is Alain de Botton’s book ‘Religion for Atheists’. Don’t get me wrong, I don’t consider myself to be an atheist – but Rowan Williams did actually refer to the book in one of his Easter sermons. I duly bought myself a copy and found it surprisingly helpful, optimistic and illuminating. I won’t go into academic detail here, but the chapter headings give a sense of what is discussed: Wisdom without Doctrine; Community; Kindness; Education; Tenderness; Pessimism; Perspective; Art; Architecture and Institutions.
I’m not a mad keen follower of Rob Bell, but I have found his writing incredibly thought-provoking and relevant (for me, at least). Take this passage from his book ‘Velvet Elvis’ (which, in many ways, touches on the things included in Alain de Botton’s book):
As a Christian, I am simply trying to orient myself around living a particular kind of way, the kind of way that Jesus taught is possible. And I think that the way of Jesus is the best possible way to live.
This isn’t irrational or primitive or blind faith. It is merely being honest that we are living a ‘way’.
I’m convinced being generous is a better way to live.
I’m convinced forgiving people and not carrying around bitterness is a better way to live.
I’m convinced having compassion is a better way to live.
I’m convinced pursuing peace in every situation is a better way to live.
I’m convinced listening to the wisdom of others is a better way to live.
I’m convinced being honest with people is a better way to live.
I would say ‘Amen’ to that.
 
I am an early riser. I’m usually up by 5am.
At various times in my life, I might have used this time for prayer and/or reading daily reflections/Bible passages.
I no longer do such things.
I can no longer be bothered.
And yet, since moving house, I now frequently find myself in my ‘Thinking Seat’ staring out of the window at the dawn of a new day.
It’s something of a magical time.
Maybe this is part of the journey to rediscover my faith?
“Caught by the light of some small heaven” (as my good friend Ian has described it) perhaps?
Who knows?… I’ll keep searching.

perfect days…

Moira and I went along to the Watershed yesterday afternoon to see Wim Wenders’s film ‘Perfect Days’. On the face of it, the film’s subject matter is pretty uninspiring (understatement!) – it features the solitary life of a 60-something Tokyo public toilet cleaner, Hirayama (played by the rather wonderful Kōji Yakusho). Every day is the same. He lives in a frugal apartment; he puts on his overalls; he takes a can of coffee from a street vending machine; he drives to work in his modest little van; he works diligently and with a sense of pride; he exchanges words with very few people; most just don’t notice him…
It all seems pretty bleak… and yet the film proved to be entirely the opposite.
Hirayama finds quiet joy in the world around him… in the apparently insignificant things… the sunlight through the trees (and the trees themselves)… taking time to pause and take in the tiny details. His life is full of routine… he regularly takes his lunch breaks in a small landscaped square; after work, Hirayama he often bathes at a public bathhouse; he dines at a casual restaurant in a subway mall where he’s greeted as a regular; he often goes to the budget section of the local second-hand bookshop; he carefully rescues fragile Japanese maple seedlings and nurtures them in his apartment; he has an old point-and-shoot camera with which he captures the things that please him. All small, but important interactions. We all have the ability to look, but how many of us actually see?
Essentially, this achingly lovely film is an argument in favour of an alternative way of being… and I think we could all do with learning such a lesson.
I thought it was a rather wonderful, heart-warming, uplifting film and I think you should see it for yourself.
PS: And, as a bonus, Hirayama chooses to listen to 60s and 70s American and British rock songs (on cassette tapes), driving in his van, from the likes of the Velvet Underground, the Kinks, Otis Redding, Patti Smith, Nina Simone and Lou Reed.
PPS: The rather beautiful public toilets are film stars in their own right! 

february 2024 books…

So Late In The Day (Claire Keegan): Since publishing her first book in 1999, Keegan’s total work to date amounts to just five books - running to just 700 pages and some 140,000 words. In an interview for the Guardian (last September), she said: “I love to see prose being written economically… elegance is saying just enough. And I do believe that the reader completes the story.” Well, as long as you can write like Keegan, I absolutely agree. This short story follows
Cathal, a civil servant in Dublin on a summer Friday. He’s sad as he reflects on his relationship with a woman, Sabine. Gradually, we become aware that Sabine was his fiancée but that she has now left him… essentially it seems because of his attitude towards women and marriage in general. We start off feeling a little sorry for Cathal and there are occasional glimmers of awareness; his work colleagues seem worried about him and his boss encourages him to go home early. There are occasional glimmers of self-awareness, but does he fully comprehend the depth of his failure and the need to change? Keegan reveals all this in a quiet, beautifully subtle way… and, finally, the reader understands the significance of the day.
Joe Country (Mick Herron): This is the second of Herron’s ‘Slough House Thrillers’ I’ve read (it’s actually the 7^th in a series of 8, so far… I’d previously read the 1st). These novels are essentially all about British espionage; they’re clever, detailed and intriguing but, for me (and I readily acknowledge that I might be the exception), they were just TOO clever and complex. For a start, I felt there were far too many characters (and, confusingly for me, some of them were referred to by ‘other’ names or nicknames?)(would I have found things easier if I’d read books 2-6?)… I longed for a descriptive list of characters attached to the book’s inside cover – so I could keep being reminded who they all were. The novel was full of ‘spy shorthand’ (Herron trying to show off his apparent in-depth knowledge of the world of political intrigue and shadowy organisations?). It took me a long time (some 150 pages?) to get my head around stuff and, even then, I felt my level of intelligence was constantly letting me down! It’s quite a long book (nearly 350 pages) and, although I did eventually ‘get into it’ – one of the story plots involves some of the Slough House ‘crew’ being dispatched to eliminate a man responsible for killing a crew member - I really longed to finish it and start something new. Sorry!
A Room With A View (EM Forster): This is our next Storysmith bookgroup book (first published in 1908). Strangely, although I’ve read a number of Forster’s books, I’d not previously read this one… and I really enjoyed it. It’s been described as a ‘social comedy’ – with English middle-classes holidaying in Florence… it’s about a young woman who finds her senses awakened by her experiences in Italy – her stifling Victorian propriety (personified in her pretentious fiancé) being eventually overridden by un-English passion. In Italy, she discovers life and marks her journey from adolescence to adulthood. I think all young people should experience Italy early in life! Our bookgroup is combining its discussion with a viewing of the film at 20th Century Flicks on Christmas Steps (and a visit to a local pub!).
Choose Life (Rowan Williams): The book consists of a series of Christmas and Easter sermons given during his time as Archbishop of Canterbury (2002-2012). I used the Christmas series for reflection during Advent 2023 and now for Lent 2024. Williams is someone whose wise views and reflections I’ve found helpful in the past… and, given my ongoing journey in the spiritual wilderness, hoped that these Easter sermons would prove beneficial. Well, in all honesty (and perhaps no surprises here!), I found them helpful, insightful and yet also somewhat frustrating. I frequently found myself questioning matters that Williams clearly felt were taken as read (but perhaps that’s just me in my current ‘mindset’?). I finished reading the sermons half way through Lent – on the basis that I wanted to read a second faith-related book before Easter (on which I hope to post some thoughts next month?). It’s somewhat sobering to realise that these sermons - from more than 10 years ago – frequently refer to wars, environmental concerns and financial crises. Nothing has changed… they only seem to have considerably worsened.
Walk The Blue Fields (Claire Keegan): As you will appreciate if you’ve been reading any of my recent book ‘reviews’, I’ve latterly become a huge fan of Keegan’s writing. This collection of short stories (first published in 2007) – mainly set in Ireland – represent yet more proof of her beautifully-crafted writing abilities, her use of language and her skill as a brilliant story-teller. I read each of the stories quite slowly (and often out loud to myself) and found them captivating, thought-provoking, imaginative, frequently funny and utterly mesmerising. You won’t be surprised to learn that I have yet another book of her stories on my bedside table!

living with nature and uncertainty…

Somewhat ridiculously, I watched two television documentaries a couple of days ago, back-to-back (I know… some people have to go to work!).
If you didn’t get a chance to see the BBC’s “The Great Mountain Sheep Gather” programme (first shown in 2020), it’s currently back on iPlayer and well worth watching. It’s a 100minute documentary about sheep farming on Scafell Pike, England’s tallest mountain. Every summer, half a dozen shepherds and perhaps 20 sheepdogs gather a flock of 500 native Hardwick sheep from some 1,200 acres(?) and bring them down the mountain to the farm for shearing. It’s an event that has taken place in the Lake District for over a thousand years. It’s a humbling account, seen through the eyes of Lakeland shepherd Andrew Harrison – the knowledge of the dogs, farmers and sheep passed down from generation to generation for centuries, the challenges of life in the fells, and the conflict posed by visitors and the 21st century… Some of the smaller farms have been sold and the farmhouses converted to holiday homes. There are less and less experienced farmers and shepherds remaining to pass on knowledge acquired over generations. Harrison talks movingly of the pride and respect he holds for the land and the privilege of doing what he does.
It’s absolutely mesmerising and quite, quite brilliant.
The second documentary was the first episode of Simon Reeve’s “Wilderness” programme - a journey into the Congo Basin (it’s taken me a long to get down to watching the series)… with its exotic wildlife, awe-inspiring landscapes, and terrifying rise of deforestation. It’s a powerful tale of the importance of conservation. Reeve and his ranger/conservationist guide
canoe along the Motaba River, before trudging through thick vegetation to meet the nomadic Baka (an indigenous people with very limited interaction with the western world). Reeve and his guide are warmly welcomed and the women of the village immediately proceed to construct impressive, elaborate huts to accommodate their overnight guests.
In the morning, they’re taken by the men in the village to gather honey. Like every Baka hunting haul, the treasure is, instinctively, equally shared. A telling remark from Reeve’s guide (“They take what they need, not what they want”) stayed with me long after the programme had ended.
Another hugely impressive insight into another world.
Of course, the two documentaries are very different – about lives on different continents and in very different circumstances – but there was something of a humbling connection between them… about how people live off the land with skills and knowledge passed down from generation to generation… and yet both with uncertainty about what the future had in store for the generations to come.