The God Delusion

After my comments yesterday about my difficulty in getting to grips with polemical novels, I've started reading Richard Dawkins' The God Delusion(!). Its a book that has been sitting on the shelf since Christmas so I thought it was time to read it and also I fancied a change from reading novels.

I haven't got far in and I am deliberately trying to appraise this book and Dawkins' arguments with a critical eye. I am not sure I entirely support his general hypothesis suggested by the books title, that a belief in God or religion for that matter, is for delusional people. That I find rather insulting and a little too obvious a statement to make. Apparently the book came about after Dawkins did a Channel 4 series called The Root of All Evil, although he carefully distances himself from the suggestion that religion can be characterised in such terms. The opening passages I read last night seemed to be a staunch defence of atheism as a 'belief' system and I am not entirely carried by that idea. I also wonder how he will deal with what appears to be an obvious paradox that by denying the existence of God (or any God) there is some form of tacit agreement that God (or a God in some form) must exist. Personally, as I've got older my feelings, which were largely atheist have moderated. I am not sure whether I do believe in God or not or if it really matters whether God does exist. Sometimes I feel that the commitment of belief is enough, to know whether what I believe is true or not, is not necessary. And maybe I am also attracted to the idea that there are at least some mysteries left, some truths that are unknowable.

I will see in the coming weeks whether Dawkins manages to convince me otherwise...

The Human Stain

Last night I finished reading The Human Stain by Phillip Roth. A curious book and one that I feel, as so often with novels that are either polemical or have some profound point to make, has a meaning that passes me by. The novel is (and this is all in my own words) the story of Coleman Silk, a retired college professor who has lived his whole life with a striking secret. The author Phillip Roth, appears in this book as an author(!) called Nathan Zuckerman who briefly becomes a close friend of Silk and is writing the book, The Human Stain! Essentially I got the impression that the human stain is the infinite secrets that we all have and the corrosive effect that those secrets have on those around us and closest to our hearts. Furthermore, it seemed to be making a strong point about how our prejudices and biases can have serious and sometimes catastrophic consequences for others. It is about the trail that we leave behind, the unavoidable imprint of who and what we are.

I guess we can never escape from the people that we are, although notably that is what the characters in The Human Stain appear to be trying to do. Coleman Silk, the most obvious example, is a Negro who has renounced his roots and lived his whole life as a 'white' man, cutting himself off from his family and keeping his true heritage secret from his wife of fifty years and his four children. It is the unravelling of this secret and Silk's life as a fake, that is the heart of The Human Stain.

This is the second book I have read by Roth, the first, The Plot Against America, was written in a similar style. It is a clever style as it felt to me like I was eavesdropping on these characters lives. It was interesting how Roth himself is both at once part of the story as a passive observer and also the narrator, an interesting storytelling device.

101 and up

Wow, this is my 101st post!

Slow progress

I've been agonising over whether to say this on my blog as I am not sure whether the public shame will motivate me or not! I've been thinking a lot over recent weeks and months about losing weight and not this time just for the short-term. I realise that I need to make long-term and permanent changes to what I eat and my levels of activity as frankly I don't like being fat and part of what is holding me back is my anxiety and unhappiness with my size. I need to regain some self-confidence and self-esteem and I think losing weight will go a long way to achieving both.

So last week I started to think more about what I am eating. In truth its something that I've been doing for a lot longer but I've reached a stage where I just know that if I carry on as I have been, I will make myself ill. As I suffer from high blood pressure losing weight will help bring that down and I am sure provide me with a greater sense of well being generally.

My first week hasn't been very promising. I've been more active but still eating too much of the wrong things. Some of it is laziness, other times its to punish myself or just through boredom and negativity.

Once I get through this week, which is going to be difficult, for all the reasons I've said before, I am going to set myself goals. Realistic, achievable goals of where I want to be, why and how I am going to do it. I think all too often in the past when I've tried to loose weight, I've never asked myself why I want to and therefore never understood what I've wanted at the end of it. And it has been all too easy to set myself targets which are too challenging and unachievable, so that I find it easy to think I've failed and therefore give up. One thing which I have read, which seems to make sense and fit in with where I've gone wrong before is that perfection is impossible, consistency is what is essential.

Even with the rather lacklustre efforts that I've made this part week I lost 3/4lbs. Really not much at all but a step in the right direction. And I know its all going to be little steps, small increments, modest progress but I am determined that I will get there. I am not going to give in or fail myself this time.

Get today over and I can deal with tomorrow

A sentiment that I often feel, that one, just get through today and tomorrow will be better. I can deal with things better tomorrow, when I am fresh and ready, my anxieties behind me. My anxiety today is an exam I am doing this afternoon. This is the culmination of my current Open University course, Power, Dissent, Equality: Understanding Contemporary Politics. Its a three hour exam during which I have to write three essay answers from a range of twelve questions. The questions are in two sections - one on the themes of the course and the other on the different blocks. I've seen the last couple of year's exam papers so know pretty much what to except. I can't help feeling at the moment that I know nothing about any of the course, that it has all somehow slipped me by and I've taken nothing in. Its not true, I do know a lot of the key points and issues but just not sure if I know enough. Can I just wing it in the end and do my best? I'll be glad come 5.30 when the exam is over and I can just come home and put it all behind me.

Then tomorrow there is facing up to being back at work, knowing that a lot of my colleagues are facing redundancy. I am glad in some ways that I am not there today as I imagine the atmosphere will be awful, much as it was come the news on Friday afternoon. As for me, my anger at my fate has abated somewhat, although I am very unhappy that in a weeks time I will be doing a new job, which I can't help but see as a demotion. It is a less demanding job than what I am doing now, less challenging and almost certainly less fulfilling. How do I know this? Because I've done part of the role before and know what is involved. I am upset because I feel like I am being told that I am not good enough for the team I work in now.

My mind is pretty much made up that I need to find a new job and quite honestly I want out of underwriting altogether. I think that whatever similar job I move into, even with another company, will be much the same as it is where I work now. I feel I need a clean break, a fresh challenge and to move onto something completely different. Too long I've been in my comfort zone and I need to push myself to get out of it.

There are many things that I am looking forward too, especially when today and perhaps this week, is out of the way. Saturday I am off on a steam-hauled excursion down to Kent, which I've been looking forward to for months; just waiting for my ticket to come. Tickets that have arrived today are those to the BBC Proms this summer, I am doing seven concerts in all over the season. This will undoubtedly be one of the highlights of the summer months for me and I am much looking forward to the experience.

In July I am going to Celebration Europe, an official Star Wars convention, the enthusiasm for which has been somewhat tempered by the lack of detail and non-arrival (so far) of the ticket that I booked several months ago. In a few weeks time it is my friend Tim's 30th Birthday and I am hoping that the weather holds for that; it should be a lovely day. I am also going to see Derek & Carla in Nuneaton the previous weekend, so two breaks in two weekends will be lovely! Carla has gained British citizenship and I am pleased to be going along to her Citizenship Ceremony.

Somewhere in between all that I am planning to visit my parents down in Portsmouth as I haven't been back since March! Its shocking how the weeks and particularly the weekends slip by with so many plans never fulfilled.

As I say if I can just get through today and into tomorrow, there is so much more to look forward too.

Saturday travels

Does anyone else ever have the feeling that some days it would have been better all round if they'd just stayed in bed? Pull up the covers, ignore the sun outside and pretend that the coming twenty-four hours isn't happening? I felt a bit like that yesterday. Day started off okay, the weather was nice, even at 6.30 in the morning and I decided as I mentioned earlier in the week to take myself off on the train. I'd even done some research on the web the night before and a day out to Great Malvern and Hereford looked appealing and do-able in a day. Planned the trains I would need to catch and knew which bus to get from home to get me to the station in time.

I wasn't feeling very cheerful yesterday, not with Friday's news at work - still got a job, just not the one I am doing now and I am not at all happy about that. Probably spoke my mind a little too forcefully as well and feeling a mix of anger, frustration, disappointment and anxiety about the future. My mood didn't really lift during the day and perhaps that along with everything else wasn't conducive to a day of 'getting away from it all.'

Anyhows, got up, dressed, had breakfast. Packed the things I needed the night before, so just needed to grab my bag and wait for the bus...which went sailing by as I left my flat, 5 minutes early! Okay, not to worry, I can walk through to the other main route and there's bound to be another bus. Sure enough, there would be, but for not twenty minutes which would be too late to make my train. So, with just enough time to spare, I decided to walk to Bletchley station, which is the nearer of the two stations I use.

Hot, sweaty but relieved I arrived at Bletchley with about 5 minutes to spare to get my ticket and train. Had ticket in my hand, just about ready to head off to get the train, when the fire alarm went off, station evacuated in a chaotic and hopelessly disorganised way. Turns out it was nothing more than the cappuccino machine in the coffee bar, which had set the alarm off. However, of course in the meantime the train I was meant to catch came into the station, stopped and sailed off again. So there went my plan to get to Hereford. It was still possible but I decided it probably wouldn't have been worthwhile.

Subsequent to missing my planned train, I had long waits for connections at both Milton Keynes Central and Northampton. Plan B came into action whilst I was waiting at Northampton and I had some vague idea of heading out to Crewe or Stafford. The connection would be okay at New Street or at least it was until the train I was on from Northampton was delayed due to signalling problems between Rugby and Coventry so I missed my connection from New Street.

By the time I got to Birmingham New Street it was time for Plan C, although I had no Plan C and was by now thoroughly pissed off. I very nearly just got the next train home but decided that would be an expensive waste of a day. If nothing else I was going to get value out of my West Midlands Day Ranger ticket. So I spent the day listlessly exploring the West Midlands by train, not enjoying any of it, my mind elsewhere and my anger and frustration at work on Friday compounded by the plans that had gone awry earlier in the day.

I suppose if nothing else, I should have a contingency plan in place in the future and at least make a day of it when I am in a better mood.

Tuesday

Thanks for the kind comments about the new look to the blog although I am having second thoughts about listing my favourite films, soundtracks and books on the main page. The problem is, they are lists that are neither complete nor fixed in stone. Only earlier this evening I was cursing the fact that I didn't mention Magnolia amongst my favourite films - it should be on there! I'll need to add it. I've tried though in picking my favourites to choose books, films and soundtracks, which have meant something both at the time I read, saw or heard them and which still make me think back to that first encounter. Maybe they elicited a particular emotion or feeling, connected with me and continue to do so, or in the case of soundtracks generally inspired and continue to inspire or bring pleasure. At the moment I am listening to some tracks from The Mission, which is not only a fabulous film (should be on that list - did I put it on there?) but a beautiful score too. Its the sort of music that I like to listen too when I need to feel uplifted or energised and it does that every time.

I could do with something uplifting at work at the moment. This Friday is when we get told who is, in management speak 'at risk of redundancy' or in plain English, who will no longer have a job. The uncertainty has crippled morale and a lot of people are feeling very uneasy, worried and concerned about their future. It is particularly hard on those with families or those of an age where they are too young to retire but perhaps will find getting another job difficult because of their age. Despite whatever the legislation or the prevailing view is, I think ageism still exists in the workplace.

For me, I am in common with many of my other colleagues, as anxious about the future if I am spared the axe of redundancy as I am of going. And of course there is the knowledge of the difficult days to come. While Friday may end some of the uncertainty in that it will be clear who has a future with the company and who doesn't, it really isn't the end especially as those being made redundant will most likely have to work their notice periods.

If nothing else this has all focused my mind on what I want and I can honestly say that I am getting zero job satisfaction from what I am doing now. The trouble is I am firmly ensconced in my comfort zone at the moment, which may seem at odds with my previous comment, however the point is no matter how demoralising things are now, I am at the place where I've always worked; the culture, the surroundings and the people are familiar. It creates a false sense of well-being and comfort. I need to break away and I know that I must follow it through this time. There can be no half-hearted thoughts of waiting another six months to see if things improve. I've been there, done that, got the T-shirt.

I really have no clue as to what I want to do and perhaps that has always been my problem. I don't harbour ambitions to get anywhere significant and perhaps this lack of drive and motivation to achieve a dream is why I've just muddled along in my career and accepted so much crap over the years. If nothing else I need to get away for my own self-esteem. To prove to myself that I am worthy of something better, a bigger challenge and fresh opportunities. I need to get away from the nagging doubt that I always have that I am just not good enough at anything I do. I know I am capable of more and I need to prove it to myself, if nobody else.

I've decided that this Saturday I am going to have a day out to myself, something that I haven't done for a while. Whatever the news is on Friday I know I am going to be upset. There are no two ways about it. Getting out for the day will take my mind away from all that. I am looking at taking the train to Stratford Upon Avon for Great Malvern/Hereford. I fancy a long journey and going somewhere that I haven't been before. Now all that is needed is to keep that in focus and get through the next few days without too much worrying and stress.

New look

I've decided to refresh the look of my blog and the result is what you are seeing now. A different template and a good one I think, with not too much clutter and nice delineation between the different parts of the page. I've also added some new lists of some of my favourite things and added a new blog link.

Let me know what you think of the changes.

Recent Films

The last three Saturday evenings have been rare opportunities when I have been at home to catch up on DVD's that I've bought. Hence, I've finished season five of the West Wing, started Firefly and caught three films - Mean Creek, The Remains of the Day and Casino Royale (2006).

Mean Creek
Normally if I see a DVD cover which is emblazoned with praise for a film it will immediately put me off. After all if a film is that good why does it need to sell itself so heavily? Mean Creek though was a bargain at £3 and what I'd remembered from the trailer around the time of its release, it looked as it if might be quite good. I wasn't disappointed.

This is a clever film, with an excellent young cast and a powerful message. Rory Culkin is ostensibly the lead, Sam, who is being bullied by the at first very unlikeable but tragically misunderstood George (Josh Peck). Sam's brother Rocky (Trevor Morgan) decides that enough is enough and together with the troubled Marty, a strikingly good Scott Mechlowicz, they decide to teach George a lesson. So, the three boys along with Sam's girlfriend Millie (Carly Schroeder) and Clyde (Ryan Kelley) convince George to come with them on a boat trip to celebrate Sam's birthday. Once out on the boat they have planned a cruel and humiliating revenge on George however the plans rapidly spin out of control with terrible consequences. The boys then have to deal with the consequences of their actions and this is where the film takes an ugly and tragic turn. Its a downbeat ending, one where there is no easy answers or immediate moral redemption. All these young actors are exceptional and the story is well written and provides much food for thought.


The Remains of the Day
Another film with a downbeat ending and one that left me sobbing into my tissues by the end, the hopeless sentimentalist that I am. Anthony Hopkins plays Stevens, a butler in a gorgeous looking mansion, servant to Lord Darlington (James Fox) who falls inexorably in love with Emma Thompson's housekeeper (Miss Kenton). But this being a very British film with stiff upper lips all round, not least from Hopkins, it is all about repressed and unrequited love. Not a lot happens but it is a sumptuous study of power and the aristocracy with some political intrigue thrown in for good measure. At its heart though is the restrained relationship between Hopkins and Thompson, which is told in flashback and is probably the most tragic love affair since Brief Encounter. The final farewell is heartbreaking and what adds extraordinary potency and pathos to this moment, is the repressed emotions, the throwing away of happiness to maintain a very English commitment to doing what is 'right and proper.'


Casino Royale (2006)
I could not have a chosen a film more opposite in emotional terms to The Remains of the Day. This is a film that left me feeling as emotionally detached as Daniel Craig's Bond, which makes the frankly bizarre after-thought falling in love with Vesper Lynde at the end of the film implausible. But then I thought the whole film was implausible unless considered only as a slice of escapist fantasy. Alternatively, was it just one long commercial? At times I felt so as yet again another close up shot of that Sony Ericsson mobile or Virgin (was that a strange cameo from Richard Branson I saw?), Google, Sony (TV's and DVD's this time), Ford, Airbus etc. It was a like a gorgeously shot advert with bits of excitement and action in between. The dialogue was not as clever as it thought it was and while I smiled a couple of times, more often than not it was at the crassness of it all rather than irony. And what was it all about? The plot was convoluted and didn't seem to join up in the middle and there was some heavy handed exposition from Judi Dench's M along the way, which tried to make sense of it all. Probably I was expecting too much and I guess I should have disengaged brain before watching. One thing I did notice was some of the Italian locations - parts were filmed around Lake Como and looked remarkably similar to the place where Anakin & Padme stumbled into love on Naboo in Attack of the Clones!

Weather report

Another wet Bank Holiday weekend then...although I would take issue with the young weatherman earlier who said that temperatures were exceptionally cold. Yes, it is somewhat below the average but exceptionally so? Everyone seems to obsess so much about the weather these days to the point where even the slightest change in the temperature, hours of sunshine or amount of rain (or more often the lack of it) seems to create a crisis mentality, suddenly it's bitterly cold, unbelievably hot or so unusual. The only explanation that there possibly can be is that its 'global warming' an umbrella term that seemingly explains away any change in the weather, not simply the fact that the weather has always been wildly unpredictable and chances are, however strange or unusual it may seem to us, it has probably been like this before! I don't get too concerned about it myself. I accept that living in Britain the weather will be unpredictable, every now and again it genuinely surprises me but most of the time, lets face it, the weather is mediocre. Maybe that's why we get so excited when the mercury creeps up a few degrees or there's a few days or rain and the wind picks up a bit on a Bank Holiday?

As for how the weather is in my life at the moment, well looking outside it is looking grey and overcast. An improvement on this morning when it was raining, cold and windy, just like most Bank Holidays. More personally, I guess I would describe my life as being sunny interludes with frequent showers and occasional heavy thundery storms. Not that I get angry much or at least not so that anyone would notice. The sun comes and ago in life, both in the sky and personally. The moment is a fairly happy time, I feel content, a faint feeling of smug satisfaction with life in general. No doubt now I've said that, something will happen tomorrow to unsettle that feeling. Yep, I am an eternally hopeful pessimist. In other words, I always hope for the best but expect the worst and then I can tell myself 'I told you so' when it goes all horribly wrong.

My moods are often as changeable as the weather although less severe in their occurrence. I don't flip from being happy one moment to ranting the next, although I can. Normally it takes days to move from being one feeling to the other and then back again. I guess not many people who know me would say that I strike them as being a particularly moody or emotional person but I think I am. Often it is the silliest things that will set me off. I think most people are like that, it is the minor irritations, the little mistakes or mishaps that seem to matter so much. I have a tendency to dwell to much on things and to worry to an excess. Neither is particularly healthy or helpful and I am trying hard to think differently and not worry about the things that I cannot change. Certainly it is a piece of advice that I am free in giving to others. What's the point in worrying about something if you can't control or change it? Put it to the back of your mind and get on with life. Easier said than done, of course. A lot of the time my anxieties are made worse by the fact that I don't have someone at home who I can simply talk to. It is cliche - 'its good to talk' - although how true it is. Even simply to have someone to listen is enough.

As for being emotional, often as with my anxieties, it is the smallest and often stupidest of things that sets me off. Don't get the wrong idea, I am not the sort of person that falls to pieces all the time. I do feel things keenly, too much so sometimes. I find it difficult to talk about if not impossible. See now what I've done? I've started depressing myself by taking off on this tack, damn it!

Back to the hear and now, I am happy you know. Mostly, quite often even and sometimes I just can't wait to start a new day. This year has been a good one for me thus far, even if the sun hasn't shone in the sky everyday it has been mostly sunny inside for me. So there's my weather report before I start ruminating on how dark and sullen it looks outside again...

Cruising the Grand Union

I returned on Saturday from a lovely week's holiday with the Groovy Gang cruising the Grand Union Canal from Linslade to Braunston and return, crossing three counties, through 27 locks (although I am sure there was more but this is what our guide book says!), over 2 aqueducts and through 2 tunnels. It was a wonderful experience, seeing a different side of England and the countryside that is often hidden from the road or the railway. I would love to do the trip again and already my appetite for walking more of the canal has been whetted.


We started our holiday in Linslade, which is the sister town to Leighton Buzzard. Not too far for me, as its only one stop down the line from Bletchley! Our home for the week was a narrowboat called Pearl, a nicely appointed craft with all the facilities needed for a holiday. I was surprised at how spacious the boat was; the bathroom was a decent size with a full-sized shower, wash basin and toilet. The kitchen was a little cramped with barely any workspace at all. The living area was comfortable, although a bit cosy for the five of us! The beds were okay, although I found mine a little narrow, especially when I turned over in the night to suddenly find myself balanced on the edge! There was a seating area to the front, in what is called the cockpit although the boat itself was steered from the stern (rear). This was probably my favourite place of all, being sat outside in the dry or wet, just watching the canal and attendant countryside slip peacefully by.


The canal from Linslade takes a winding and twisty route through the Bedfordshire countryside. We were guided to our first lock by Pete from the company we'd hired the boat. Operating the locks was surprisingly straightforward and by the time we'd navigated the Three Locks at Soulbury we were old hands, lol! Doing the locks is fun, although at times hard and occasionally miserable work, when you're cold and being lashed by heavy rain. Fortunately on the first stretch we were going through the locks with another holiday boat crewed by Swedes, who Jamie was convinced were swingers! Having the extra hands certainly made the work that bit easier. Theresa did the driving for the first part and proved to be a natural, I on the other hand was not!


We moored up for the first night at Fenny Stratford; after several hours gentle cruising we'd arrived barely 40 minutes walk from my home! Even though this was familiar territory there is something quite different about being on a canal boat. The world seems different, the pace of life is much slower. There is no hurry to be anywhere, no deadlines to meet, no stress or pressure. After all, top speed is a pedestrian 4 mph. I think a couple of days of that slower pace was reflected in how I saw things. Apart from our stops in Fenny and Milton Keynes, we barely touched the bustle of civilisation. About the only, almost constant companion on our journey was the West Coast Main Line. There was a brief part flirting with the M1 and a couple of busy roads but even they seemed worlds away, we were going at our own pace, in our own slowed down England, while the hustle and bustle of modern life continued somewhere else.


The second day was mostly navigating through Milton Keynes and although I've walked parts of the towpath before, this was still a different experience and a secluded part of the city that is often never seen and probably forgotten. Indeed, it is so green and bucolic it was difficult to imagine that we were in the heart of Europe's fastest growing urban area.


One of the nicest aspects of the holiday was stopping either for lunch or an evening meal at a canalside pub. All but one was enjoyable and the convivial atmosphere, good food and drink that we enjoyed at each was a welcome respite at times from the seemingly relentless rain on those first few days. Plus, most had a games machine, where we must have wasted a good deal of spare change not to mention time trying to win something on 'Deal or No Deal' or '1 vs 100' although admittedly by the end of the week we were getting rather good at it.


The week was not without its incident. Monday for example we were delayed for several hours at the bottom of the Stoke Bruerne Lock Flight as some idiot had decided to drive a car into one of the locks. The lock had to be drained before the car could be recovered. Needless to say there was the canal equivalent of a traffic jam as boats queued up to use the locks. Even this irritation was not really one at all, as Tim and I took the opportunity to have a game of Star Wars Miniature Battles, which inevitably I lost! Once under way we made good progress. In need of sustenance at the end of the locks (there are seven I seem to recall) we stopped at a pub although to our disappointment and unhappy rumbling of stomachs had arrived too late for food. Fortunately another pub a bit further down the canal towpath was serving food, so we could slake our thirst and satisfy our hunger.


Further on in the afternoon we came across a narrowboat, adrift in the canal, at first looking suspiciously like a Mary Celeste discovery until we realised that it had come free of its moorings. After sorting that out, we were on our way again and moored up for the night in a tranquil setting, distant from any civilisation. It is amazing how dark and clear the night is outside of the city or town and how many stars you can see in the sky. Such a change from that awful orange hue that seems to surround the urban night sky.


By the end of Tuesday we arrived at our northernmost destination, Braunston. A lovely little village perched above the canal, some miles north of Daventry. Another enjoyable evening meal at the Old Plough in the High Street, before returning to the boat where the others watched Doom. Feeling exhausted and very tired I went for a lie down and fell asleep, although perhaps it was a mercy as I am told the film was awful.


Wednesday we started our journey back, which seemed to be a lot quicker than the outward run. Perhaps we had become quite adept at the locks by this point and so were able to get through them quicker. Or maybe more confident in handling the boat, although less said about that for me, the better! Yes there were a few scrapes and quite a bang while I was piloting but the less said about that probably the better.

Little disappointed on the way back that we didn't have the opportunity to visit the Canal Museum at Stoke Bruerne as I would have liked to have done that. Still, it is not far from here and if I can find a suitable bus to get me there I intend to visit in the next couple of weeks.

I forgot to mention earlier in my description of the outward passage the two tunnels that we passed through on the journey. The first (going north) was at Blisworth, a 2-mile long voyage into the abyss. It is a quite incredible feat of engineering, having stood the test of more than 200 years and a quite eerie experience. The latter was not helped by Jamie's crys of some deranged soul who'd been trapped in the tunnel for years! Atmospheric, cold and very damp, it was quite an experience. The second tunnel was just before Braunston and this one has a notable kink in it because the tunnel was apparently excavated from either end and unfortunately did not meet up in the middle! Consequently you can't see from one end to the other.

A incident of note on the way back was a walk that myself, Tim & Sharon decided to take whilst we were moored for the evening at Haversham, just to the north of MK. It was meant to be a gentle stroll for an hour or so but turned into much more of an adventure as we got hopelessly lost, ending up in a nature reserve! Muddy paths, climbing over gates, crossing cattle grids and even clambering over some barbed wire! We made it back to the boat though for another fine supper prepared by Theresa, who it has to be said, was an absolute star when it came to keeping us fed. The walk despite its hairy encounter with the barbed wire was worth it not least for the ruined church and the fantastic sunset that we saw walking back to the boat, a beautiful bath of light on the ruins and a nearby tree, surely a watercolour masterpiece just crying out to be painted.

The final full day, Friday, was a leisurely one with a lunchtime stop in Milton Keynes. I love showing people MK and I am sure that I probably bore my friends with the same stories. I soak up all sorts of details about the city and try to learn as much as I can about it. I was the same when I lived in Portsmouth, I have a voracious interest in the place where I live and Milton Keynes is particularly exciting because of its mix between old and new, city and countryside. Later on Friday we met Jane at The Three Locks, north of Linslade, where we would have our final evening together on the boat. I still don't think my ears have quite recovered from the experience of everyone singing along to Grease, which Jane had brought with her. I personally didn't sing because I am tone deaf and hearing me sing is slightly less pleasant than the sound of a strangled cat.

By the end of the week it seemed like we had been away for ages. Saturday morning came around all too soon though. We were up early, underway by 8am to get the boat back to Linslade and the yard before 9.30, which we did. After saying our brief farewells at the station, Jane and I made our way back to MK. It was a shame that we didn't get a final photo of all of us before we left as I would have liked a group photo of the weary sailors.

In short, it was a fabulous week and I enjoyed it a lot more than I thought I would. In fact I would go so far to say as it was one of the best holidays I've had. I'd love to do another narrowboat holiday, probably visiting a different canal or a different route but there is much that I've seen on the Grand Union Canal that I would like to visit again. It was certainly an experience that will stay fresh in the memory for many years.

Recently

Its been a busy couple of weeks as I have been working in Birmingham, which I haven't at all minded. In fact I rather enjoyed the travelling each day, as rather perversely I like going anywhere on the train. The office I was working at overlooks Snow Hill station and just opposite there is a reminder of the former grandeur of the station, with a blocked up former entrance, endorsed with 'GWR' - Great Western Railway, or 'God's Wonderful Railway' as it is affectionately known. From the pictures I recall seeing of Snow Hill it was a much grander station than the dingy box it is now with a multi-storey car park sitting atop it. Indeed, Birmingham's city centre stations are not the prettiest affairs. The main one, New Street, is an abomination of 1967 hopes and dreams. Although it doesn't have the indignity of a car park being built over it, New Street has that great cathedral of consumerism - a shopping centre atop its platforms. At platform level, it always feels gloomy, barely any natural light penetrates and the booming tannoy announcements, which threaten variously that the train you're waiting for has been cancelled, replaced by a bus or just delayed somewhere up the line, creates the impression of some underground hell. Even the exits are not obvious, taking you onto a crowded and often fast-moving concourse of people. Its all so bland and uninspiring, it provides no sense of having arrived at the heart of the UK's second city.

About the only good thing about the redevelopment of New Street in 1967 is the signal box, now a Grade II listed structure. Admittedly it is not attractive, a monument of concrete that towers far above the tracks and soars upwards into the light and above Navigation Street, providing a striking if slightly odd looking landmark - a good pic here. Pretty it may not be but I like it as a piece of railway architecture and its slightly futuristic look doesn't hint at its function at all.

The good news is that New Street is about to undergo a £500 million face lift, which is in all but name a complete rebuild of the current complex. Gone is the congested and dull concourse, replaced by a brand new plaza flooded with natural light, departure lounges and an altogether much brighter and brilliant place to catch a train. Whether it will deliver remains to be seen or will it in 40 years become as much an eyesore as the current station?

Every now and again I will read a book that speaks to me in profound ways and enthrall and engage in ways that are often difficult to describe or convey with words. Perhaps, its more an emotion, a feeling of having completed a journey and learned something either about myself or human nature at the end of it. Examples of this that immediately spring to mind are Childhood's End by Arthur C Clarke, If Nobody Speaks of Remarkable Things by Jon McGregor and Dresden by Frederick Taylor. Last week, I added another book to that list - The Final Days by Bob Woodward and Carl Bernstein. Trumpeted as the sequel to All the Presidents Men, it is really more a companion commentary on the last days of the Nixon Presidency told from the perspective of those closest to Nixon and serving in the White House. It is an awesome achievement, a thoroughly researched and detailed account of one man's hell and the terrible pain it wrought on a country.

I find the story of Nixon and particularly his fall from grace, endlessly fascinating. Although Nixon has become a figure of hate and one often derided, I personally have begun to admire the man, particularly his dogged determination and immense courage. And I am quite specific in that I admire the man that Nixon was, not the demons that destroyed him and his Presidency. That is the most fascinating enigma about Nixon - the dichotomy between a great statesman and shrewd politician on the one hand and on the other a menacing, dark, cold and self-destructive side to his character that in the latter years of his office destroyed him completely. There are no two ways about it, Nixon's exit from the White House was a tragedy, whether you loathe him or learn to understand who he was.

The Final Days portrays Nixon in a compassionate light. It doesn't avoid the darkness that often consumed him or glorify the painful steps that ended Nixon's term of office. In being an even, balanced account, it allows the reader to form their own judgement although I would challenge anyone to get to the end of this book and not feel some compassion maybe even sympathy for Nixon, a man who I believe in the final analysis was at his heart good although sadly undermined by self-loathing, paranoia and hate. One of the most poignant quotes from Nixon in this book is this: 'although your enemies may hate you they won't win unless you hate them, and then you destroy yourself.' Of course, this is exactly what Nixon did. It was most of all his need for revenge, to destroy his enemies, that ultimately led to his own downfall. Another quote from Nixon, which I find powerful and poignant, is a drunken comment to Kissinger after an emotional meeting between the two men, with Nixon broken and distraught, 'Henry, please don't ever tell anyone that I cried and that I was not strong.' Both these excerpts show the fault-lines of the Nixon character quite clearly. The need to appear strong, to be right and never seen as weak, which often manifested itself as vengeance against those who had committed perceived wrongs contrasted with that dark side of his character, the one dominated by self-loathing and self-destruction.

I got my guide to the BBC Proms this week. I am planning to do 7 concerts this year, which is a hefty number, especially at about £20 a time but I feel it is worth it. There is nothing more exciting for me than seeing music, of any sort, being performed live. Particularly for me if it is on a grand orchestral scale and no place I've been to yet is better to enjoy live music than the Royal Albert Hall.

Tomorrow we set off on our holiday on the Grand Union Canal, which I am much looking forward too. Whether I will still be speaking to my friends at the end of it, after spending a week together on a small boat, remains to be seen! The weather does not look at all promising but to hell with it! I am going to have fun and enjoy it whether it lashes down with rain, hail or even snow!

Doing my duty

I've always taken voting very seriously. Since I was first able to vote, which I guess would have been about 13 years ago, I have, as far as I recall, voted in every election whether local or national bar one. Today there are local council elections in England, and elections to the Welsh Assembly and Scottish Parliament. As always, the media seems largely disinterested in the local votes until of course the votes are counted and then the results will be analysed endlessly for the referendum they will be interpreted as on the present government. For me local elections are not about parties or political personalities on the national stage. I vote on the basis of who I feel will provide the best deal for me locally, irrespective of party colour or affiliation. My feelings are different when I am voting in a General Election, when I am naturally guided by the party dimension and who I want to be in power.

I take voting seriously because I feel it is my democratic right as well as my duty to make my choice of candidate at election. It could be argued endlessly whether the choice of candidates is broad enough or representative of my views or aspirations. Politics like everything else in life is about compromise. There will never be one candidate or one party whose views and policies I will entirely agree with. Then there is the apathy factor. I have to admit I was feeling this on my way home, considering whether I could be bothered to go and vote even though the Polling Station is just across the road. I got angry with myself for thinking that. Of course I should vote. My vote is important; it matters. Whether it really matters or has any actual influence of course is an open question but it matters to me, it counts that I have expressed my choice. If any account is taken of that choice or not is perhaps in my view of the process not critically important, it is the fact that I have expressed that choice. I have exercised my rights and I have participated in the democratic process, flawed as it is. Then there is the counter argument I have to that prevailing thought of why should I bother, it will make no difference and it is this: if we all felt like that democracy wouldn't work, we would have anarchy. Besides, it is not about what everyone else does, its about what I do. My actions are important. My choices matter.

An example of how choices matter is demonstrated in this profile on the BBC News web site of Blair's cabinet of 1997. It shows how the choice of a Labour government in 1997 has profoundly shaped our country and all our lives. Those votes that were made by the electorate, myself included, were important. They mattered because they changed the way our country is governed and have led to one of the most intense periods of constitutional reform in modern times. Not least, amongst these changes, devolved power to Scotland and Wales and reform, albeit piecemeal to the House of Lords. The changes spearheaded by Blair's cabinet of 1997 will leave their mark on the UK long after this government is voted out of office. Although the current trend is to judge the Blair government on the disastrous intervention in Iraq I think history will cast a different light. There is much more that Blair's tenure in Downing Street has achieved, as the article reveals.

In short politics matters. We cannot exist in an apolitical environment; no matter how disinterested people claim to be in politics, it shapes and influences their lives. We are all subject to politics and we all do politics because society cannot exist without it. By extension voting matters. It is important, it is our duty and our responsibility to ensure that we make it count.

Another one of those boring posts about trains

Okay, if you're still reading and weren't put off the title, you must either be as much an anorak as me or just curious...but I did warn you!

Last Saturday I went to the Bluebell Railway in East Sussex. I'd been wanting to go for a couple of years but for one reason or another other things have come up and there just hasn't been the opportunity. What convinced me to go was some photos a railway buff friend of mine sent of their visit last summer. Still it has taken me to April this year to find the time and opportunity to go.

The last time I visited the Bluebell was at least 20 years ago, if not longer. I remember little about it to be honest, other than it was a warm sunny day and bits of the station at Horsted Keynes. Don't remember anything of actually going on the train!

The Bluebell, along with the Tallylyn Railway in Wales, were the torch-bearers for the preservation movement. I think I am right in saying that the Bluebell line was first established as a preserved railway in the late 1960s and was the first railway of its kind in the UK. It is currently the only standard gauge heritage line in the country which is entirely steam operated. The line itself represents a typical country branch line of the 1950s/1960s.

I am not certain of this but I understand the Bluebell was part of a through route from East Grinstead to Lewes. The line currently runs for about 8 miles from Sheffield Park via Horsted Keynes to Kingscote, although the line to East Grinstead is currently being relaid and a branch is being built to Ardingly, near Haywards Heath. The link to East Grinstead will presumably provide direct access to the National Rail network. Currently the 'missing link' from East Grinstead to Kingscote is provided by a bus, which runs when the railway is operating.

Kingscote station, like the others on the line, has been lovingly and carefully restored. Posters advertise excursions by 'British Railways' to the coast and period advertising and station furniture add to the feel of stepping back in time. Even the tickets are hand stamped card with a choice between First Class and Third Class. There was no Second or the more politically correct 'Standard' class in those days!

The highlight of any visit to a railway like this is the locomotives and the trains. I am not as knowledgeable about steam locos as I would like to be and unlike modern trains they don't carry class numbers. I can pretty much recognise a Black 5, a 'Terrier', Bullied Pacific, A4 Pacific and a few other types but other than that, I am as lost as the next non-railway person! The two locos in use on my visit were a Class 4 Tank, built at Brighton in 1957 and returned to steam in 2001 and a London Brighton & South Coast Railway Class E4 Radial Tank built in 1898. Btw, I got this info from the Bluebell's excellent web site. Both currently operate in British Railways lined black livery, which I think is rather attractive and would have been a common livery for steam locos in the 1950s and 1960s.

The Bluebell is home to a large collection of ex-Southern Railway locos and there are a number of my favourites on the line - the Bullied Pacifics - both in rebuilt and unrebuilt form. These are attractive looking locos and hauled some of the most prestigious trains of their day like The Pines Express and Bournemouth Belle.

On static display outside the shed at Sheffield Park was this fine looking locomotive, a Maunsell 'U' class loco, 1638. Reading her history on the Bluebell web site reveals that she was for a time based at Fratton depot, Portsmouth until closure in 1959. As you can see the loco has been lovingly restored to full working order and this was completed in 2006, more than 40 years after she was originally withdrawn from service! It took over two decades to restore this loco to full working order and it impresses me that dedicated people like the volunteers at the Bluebell invest such time and money into restoring these magnificent machines. I will be travelling on a train hauled by a similar looking loco to this in June on a steam-hauled excursion to Kent.

I think most people, especially men even if they are not interested in trains generally, have some sort of fascination or are moved by the sight of a steam locomotive. They are probably the most life-like of machines in many ways and I am always excited at the prospect of travelling on a steam-hauled train. There is a certain magic and nostalgia to the experience and an atmosphere too, hearing the loco puffing away, with long trails of smoke billowing into the distance. Wonderful :-)

Next for this year will be visits to both the Mid-Hants & Swanage Railways and hopefully Nene Valley and Severn Valley too. I am hoping that I'll get to do a couple of diesel galas as well as my real passion along with steam is in heritage diesel locomotives, particularly of the 1970s & 80s.

Maybe honesty is the best policy

I had what would probably be a full and frank discussion with my manager today about where I am with my job and where I would like to be. I made it clear that the coming months, were from my point of view at least, a make or break time. There is a restructure (yet again) ongoing at the moment, the outcome of which I may know tomorrow or sometime next week. As always with these things, details seep out before the main announcement and generally what I have heard seems positive and I am keeping a focus on that. But I am also being realistic too. If things don't work out as I anticipate then I am not happy carrying on as now. I can't continue as I am, to put it simply. This was the gist of what I said my manager although of course in a more articulate manner. I think we both came away from the meeting with a clearer understanding of each other and whilst my comments were sincere I am not entirely convinced of the same by my manager's words, no matter how many times he made reference to being sincere. I always find it doubtful when people have to hammer home so carefully what they mean - surely if the meaning is not clear in their words then they don't really mean it? I am not usually so direct and honest but it felt refreshing to be so and to approach the subject of my future at work so directly and head-on.

The coming days and weeks should be interesting as the results of the restructure become clear and I learn how I fit within it. There is, as always with these things, some suggestion that redundancies may occur but I feel that is very unlikely. I am not worrying about that anyway. If it happens to me, it does and I'll deal with it then. I waste too much emotional energy already worrying about the things that I cannot change so there is no point adding redundancy to my list!

Hopefully tomorrow things may become a little clearer and I will have a better focus on the future at work.

Newcastle

I returned yesterday from a 3-day break to Newcastle, my first visit to the North East of England and an enjoyable one too. I'd planned this break back in February feeling that I needed some time away to myself, as well as the holiday with the Groovy Gang in May. Newcastle wasn't my first choice; I was thinking of Bournemouth or somewhere down in the South West but as it happened the Newcastle thing came together. I've had an interest in visiting the city for a while and managed to get cheap train tickets and a bargain stay at the Travelodge - the whole thing - travel and accommodation - for under £100 for 3 nights. In my experience, that is cheap for a stay in the UK! Okay, so the Travelodge is not exactly your 4/5-star luxury experience but it suffices as I used it - simply as a place to sleep and treat as a base. It was comfortable, clean and modern, centrally located and with easy access of the city centre. Not bad at all.

Newcastle itself impressed me. Or should I say NewcastleGateshead as the marketing constantly reminded me! I am a little ashamed to admit that I didn't realise just how close the two centres are - Gateshead is just the other side of the Tyne. When I arrived at Newcastle Central I was in my element. I love old stations and the one at Newcastle, over 150 years old, is a magnificent sight. The scale of the place, like the rest of Newcastle's building, is impressive and it retains a grand station hotel, which was such a common feature of the main termini and important stations of the steam age. Clearly, the station has been modernised but sympathetically such that it is still possible to take in the grandeur of this Grade 1 listed building.

I decided to walk to the Travelodge, having ascertained from the map I had it wouldn't take more than about 15 minutes. So, off I trudged, bag in hand confidently marching in the general direction of the quay. I was struck by how tall the buildings are, and nearer the quay the approaches to the Tyne Bridge, carry the road many stories up in the air across buildings, which themselves, loom ominously to 4 or 5 stories. Everything about Newcastle seems to be on a giant scale. Needless to say I got a little lost, although once I got to the quay I got my bearings and the Travelodge, although not its entrance, was fairly easy to find, tucked away behind the Law Courts.

That afternoon, once I settled in, was spent mostly getting to know the area a little better. I took a walk down along the quay taking pictures of the bridges, particularly the Tyne Bridge, which reminds me of the pictures I've seen of the one in Sydney, Australia. Not quite the same climate in Newcastle unfortunately although each day I was blessed with nearly dawn to dusk sunshine and it was pleasantly warm most of the time. After making my way back to Central Station, I realised that there was a regular bus service that would achieve the same and avoid the tiring and steep walk back up the hill to the city centre. I made much use of the same many times over my short stay.

Later I went to the Gateshead Metro Centre, a sprawling 1980s consumer metropolis of shops, bars, restaurants and leisure facilities. Really, Milton Keynes but on a larger scale. The Metro Centre claims to be the largest shopping and leisure facility in Europe. That seems a little doubtful to me but each of these out of town shopping meccas claims to be the largest and I've done a few of them - Trafford Centre, Meadowhall, Bluewater. On site is an Odeon multiplex, where I saw Mr Bean's Holiday. I laughed like a drain and embarrassingly was laughing at the bits which obviously weren't funny, either that or I was the only one who got the joke! I am sure it wouldn't be so funny on a second viewing and no I am going to justify my choice of film any further.

Tuesday was my favourite day and I had been planning this, at least mentally, for some weeks. I arrived early at the station expecting it to be busy and certain that I would have difficulties getting the ticket I wanted. On both counts I was proved wrong and I set off with my Round Robin ticket via the Settle-Carlisle line for an enjoyable day out.

I decided to do the journey the 'wrong' way round as trains to Newcastle from York are more frequent than they are from Carlisle. My first journey was from Newcastle to Carlisle, a pleasant journey across the top of England, flirting with the borders of Scotland. The train stops at Hexham, from where it is possible to get a bus to Hadrian's Wall, for a reasonable add-on fare. Maybe another time I'll do this. About 90 minutes after leaving Newcastle, the train arrived in Carlisle, the second time I have been to this city in just 6 months. I had a brief stop of around an hour before my next train and the highlight of the day, so I took the opportunity to have a leg-stretch and comfort break. Carlisle is an attractive city and on my previous visit I'd done the Castle and Cathedral. Again, its a handy jumping off point for trips to Hadrian's Wall.

Next train from Carlisle was the service to Leeds, a journey of around 3 hours through some of the most beautiful and wonderful countryside. The route via Settle passes through the Eden and Aire valleys and the line features 17 viaducts and 14 tunnels; Blea Moor Tunnel is reputedly haunted! The most impressive of the viaducts is Ribblehead Viaduct, 24 arches carrying the railway 104 feet above the valley below. It is an iconic location for railway photography, with a beautiful backdrop of rolling hills and the valley it crosses.

If I was doing the journey in the opposite direction, I would be on the descent to Carlisle from the infamous 'long drag' from Settle to Ais Gil Summit. Over the course of about 40 miles the line rises from just under 100 feet above sea level at Settle to 1169 feet above sea level at Ais Gil. The Settle-Carlisle line also features the highest mainline station in England at Dent, which sits an impressive 1150 feet above sea level and must be one of the most isolated and bleak stations on the network (its over 4 miles from the village it serves), appearing to sit precariously on the edge of a deep valley.

I alighted from the train at Settle, for a break of two hours until the next train south. There are about six return passenger journeys on the line each day, about three on Sundays. It seems remarkable to me that in the early 1980s the while line was faced with closure. Most of the intermediate stations had been closed and freight was non-existent. Now, the line is going through something of a renaissance with the passenger services doing well and freight - principally coal and gypsum - a regular feature of the line. The line is also an important Anglo-Scottish diversionary route for passenger trains avoiding the West Coast Main Line; most recently it was used for this purpose following the Virgin Trains derailment at Lambrigg.

Settle is in a lovely bucolic setting and has all the charm of a quintessentially English market town. Only the constant thunder of lorries through this otherwise tranquil setting spoils the notion. Tuesdays is Market Day, which seemed to be doing a brisk trade and I was surprised to note that the town still observes early closing on Wednesdays, something that was once common across many English towns and cities.

After leaving Settle I rejoined the train for the run down to Leeds. The scenery is less attractive in this stretch and it passes through stations of faded splendour, notably Hellifield. Once an important junction, it's usefulness is now far diminished and although efforts have been made at restoration, it has the look of decay and disuse. There are some good views of the Leeds & Liverpool canal and some fascinating glimpses of the Five and Three Rise Locks.

Leeds was just a place to change trains; I've been here before and didn't like it much so decided not too linger. As it was rush-hour, Leeds station was buzzing and I got the first train from there to York.

York, as I am sure I've probably mentioned before, is one of my favourite cities. An ideal place to stop for a few hours, get something to eat and go on a walk up through the Shambles to York Minster, where the intrepid tourists were gathering for the nightly Ghost Walk. I did this once when I stayed in York back in '98 or '99 and it is well worth doing, a lot of fun. Then it was back along part of the city walls to the station to catch my train back to Newcastle.

Wednesday was a little less adventurous. Started off early and got the train to Durham, if I'd been coming the other way about an hour earlier I would have been travelling on the most overcrowded train in the UK! Durham station is situated at the top of a hill, meaning a long walk down and more importantly back up! I stopped here for breakfast before making my way to the Cathedral, which seemed to be up another hill over the other side of the city. The Cathedral was not one of the most impressive I've visited and I object to the fact that there seemed to be entry fees for many things such as going up the tower. I know these grand buildings cost a lot of money to keep going but charging fees, which it seems are mainly designed to catch out foreign tourists, just seems wrong.

After returning to Newcastle, I got an all day ticket for the Metro, bus and ferry and got the Metro to Whitley Bay. This was an invigorating stop, as might be seen from the photo! I love being by the sea and this was my fix for the day!

From Whitley Bay it was back on the Metro for the short trip round to North Shields. I got somewhat lost by rather errant road signs trying to find my way to the ferry. Eventually I found the terminal and took the ferry for the short crossing across the Tyne to South Shields. I imagine that the Tyne was much busier than it is now. There was very little in the way of shipping activity although a DFDS cross-channel ferry was moored up perhaps in between sailings to Scandinavia or Holland. South Shields seemed a little more alive than its neighbour across the Tyne although this clearly is an area of social and economic problems. At South Shields I rejoined the Metro back to Gateshead and managed to get the front seat a few stops into the journey. The Metro is a curious amalgam of heavy and light rail. The stations and routes were clearly once served by conventional rail services before giving way to the Metro. As on the DLR, passengers can sit a the front of the train and thus, in my case at least, have a little flight of fantasy at being the driver! Unlike the DLR, the Metro is driven by a driver, who is locked away in a cab to the left-hand side.

At Gateshead, another change of transport, this time onto a bus for the short journey to the Baltic. This was the only disappointment of my time in Newcastle. The Baltic is a converted flour mill on the banks of the Tyne, which is now home to a modern art gallery. Unfortunately it seems that I chose a bad time to visit - three of its five floors were closed for exhibition change-overs and of the other two, one was partially closed for a refurbishment or something. The highlight as it happened was the stunning views from the fifth floor across the Tyne.

I walked back across the Tyne into Newcastle over the Gateshead Millennium Bridge and then another bus to the city centre. After getting something to eat decided that I should see what was on at the cinema. Saw Sunshine, which I thought was a lot like 2001 and certainly owed something to Alien and Event Horizon.

Yesterday was my return to Milton Keynes but before I left Newcastle, I had to do the one bridge that I hadn't done - the Tyne Bridge. From here there are some great views of Newcastle and Gateshead notably the Baltic and the Sage, plus the other bridges. The Tyne Bridge itself is an impressive structure and it felt even bigger and more impressive walking across it than it did seeing it from underneath.

All in all it was a great few days way. There is a lot that I didn't get the chance to see or do and I would love to go back to Newcastle again. The people were friendly, the city is compact and easy to get about, there is much to do and some wonderful countryside and the coast within easy reach. Maybe next year...

Brief Encounter

I caught the last half-hour or so of Brief Encounter on Film 4 earlier. It was during an idle moment of flicking through TV channels, seeing what was on and I guess I struck lucky with catching the end of one of my favourite films. It is also a film that always makes me cry and true to form I blubbed through every last minute of it. Despite its age, Brief Encounter, I feel is perhaps one of the best if not the best romances of cinema. I know I've said this before but it would be inconceivable that film could be made like this today. It is so quintessentially British, with its reserved, uptight characters with frightfully posh accents and impeccable manners. This though, for me, is what gives Brief Encounter its great pathos and enduring quality. It is the fact that Laura's and Alec's affair is chaste and so dignified that lends such enormous power to every moment of their meeting; those 'special' Thursday afternoons. I am particularly struck by Celia Johnson's portrayal of Laura, a woman in a desperate turmoil, torn between loyalty and her true love. Her restraint is as incredible as it is heartbreaking. This is a woman who so desperately wants to break free but her every moment is a study in self-control and crushing reserve.

The moment that really gets me though, is at the end of the film, when she almost looses it completely and rushes onto the platform with every intention of throwing herself in front of the express. She says something like 'I didn't want to feel anything anymore' and those lines just choke me up every time. The film to me also has a rather sad ending although morally its all very decent and proper; Laura realises the error of her ways and comes back to her worthy but monumentally dull husband. It's a crushing moment, the love of her life has gone and she is back to just the normal, the routine and the hum-drum existence of a housewife.

****

Yesterday was spent down in London, met up with some of the Groovy Gang and had an enjoyable day in the sun walking around London's docklands - the Isle of Dogs, Milwall and Canary Wharf. Later on we went to Excel, mainly to see where the place was and how easy it is to get too as this will be the venue for Star Wars Celebration Europe in July. After watching the Grand National in a cavernous sized pub that would have been almost empty except for us, we made our way to Greenwich, finding another pub and spent an enjoyable part of the evening having a bite to eat, drinks and talking about all manner of things, from Star Wars (thanks to Joe for bringing along a collection of old comics) to the Watergate investigation and the downfall of Nixon's presidency.

The drinks in the pub and the chat is the best thing for me about any meet up we do. I don't often have anyone to unburden my thoughts on or even to share or engage in conversation with others. There are so many things I have buzzing around sometimes, not usually particularly important or striking, that I am glad I have this blog to off-load some of them.

Oh and the other good bit about yesterday was the various journeys made on the DLR, which since I was introduced to it some 6-7 years ago, has always been a favourite railway experience of mine :-)

Choices

The story in today's news about the woman who has lost her appeal to the European Courts to use frozen embryo's fertilised by her ex-partner, have left a feeling of distaste. I am frankly disgusted that a case like this should even have got so far down the legal process, not to mention that I am opposed to any form of artificial fertilisation.

To me, life is precious. It is a gift. We do not have the unequivocal right to grant it nor do we have the right to take it away. All too often I feel that people bring babies into this world with little care or regard for the consequences or responsibilities that creating new life brings. It seems to me that amongst some sections of society, having a baby is the latest designer accessory. It is no longer seen as a gift to be cherished, nurtured and loved.

This case highlights these points I feel. I am disgusted by the idea that life can be created in such a seemingly callous and casual way and discarded with equal flippancy. I find the idea that life is little more than a 'thing' repugnant and morally reprehensible. There is the fact that there is now six possible lives that will never exist. I find that a difficult concept to accept. I cannot agree with life being created and taken away so easily. It is not ours to decide and although I feel sympathy for those who cannot have children naturally, for whatever reason, I do not believe in artificial means of fertilisation.

Yes, it is cruel that some people cannot have children. I am sure it must be a terrible sadness if you want children of your own but can't have them. But those are the cards that have been dealt. That might sound harsh or unkind; it is what I believe. We cannot have exactly what we want or sometimes even what we need. Life is cruel, it is painful and sometimes harsh. Life is also beautiful, wonderful, joyous and amazing.

Moreover, life is full of difficult choices and making sacrifices. Sometimes morality, principles, the care and consideration of others or even a nobler act of doing the best for those we love must come before our own personal happiness. If I was in a position where I was unable to have children and I wanted too, I hope that I would have the courage to accept that. Yes, I would be disappointed and maybe it would always remain a gaping emptiness but I have to be realistic. This is not what has been chosen for me, life is not my gift to provide.

I've made choices about my life and some choices have been made for me. I can't change the fact of who I am; I cannot alter what fundamentally defines me.

I am not motivated by religious beliefs in my thinking on this; perhaps there is some spiritual element to it or a belief that there is a greater design to our world than we can comprehend. What I am trying to get too is the point that we can't have all the things that we want. We make choices. We choose a lifestyle, we choose how we live. Then there are the things that we cannot choose, like our sexuality, the fundamentals that define and make choices for us.

I don't think I am being unduly moralistic or advancing an idea that some people should always be unhappy or deprived of what they want. I personally feel that there are certain things in my life that will always be closed to me. That's because of who I am and the choices I make. Some make me deeply unhappy but I try not to dwell on what is missing; I would rather look at what I have and the positive choices I can make.

It is unlikely that I will ever have children. That is both a choice I have and a decision that has, in some ways, already been made for me. Does it make me unhappy? Yes, sometimes. I feel that I have a moral responsibility as well as a social duty that if I were to have children to provide for them a stable and loving home, to nurture, care for and love them. Can I provide all that? If the answer is no, which it is, then it is not my choice to have children.

This is the other point I am making here or trying to. As I said earlier, some people seem to have children because they're a designer accessory or because they were a 'mistake.' How can anyone though seriously be so foolish as to create life with all its attendant responsibilities and call it a 'mistake?' That to me is an abdication of any sense of moral duty.

So, to come back to my original point, life is not ours to unequivocally provide or take away. It is a serious and profound undertaking. It must be thought through and carefully considered. It cannot be made and then thrown away because it is inconvenient or a 'mistake.' It isn't a choice open to everyone, as I have said. Although I have sympathy for people in that position, that is the way it is. Instead move on to something that can be chosen, a difference that can be made.

Sci-fi catch-up

It's been something of a sci-fi catch up weekend so far. In the last few days I've watched five episodes of Battlestar Galactica Season Three, finished the last couple of episodes of The Day of the Triffids and watched the four episodes of the Dr Who story Resurrection of the Daleks, not to mention the episode from the new series on BBC 1 last night. Of all those mentioned my least favourite was last night's Dr Who. I was bored, I found myself checking my watch a couple of times, glancing anxiously at the Radio Times - when would this finish? Not good. It is all very clever and slick of course and the effects are far superior to what has been seen before but it seems to lack something of the charm and excitement of the earlier episodes of Dr Who. The Doctor himself no longer seems to be a character, more a caricature. I am not sure it is entirely David Tennant's fault as the script is just as much to blame. And the new assistant, Martha Jones, just Rose by another name it seems. I am not impressed with her at all, she seems to me to be a carbon copy of Billy Piper's character and a rather less interesting one too.

One of my main gripes though is that the action always takes place on Earth or so it seems, either the past, present or future and the whole world seems to revolve around London or Cardiff, which is often disguised as the capital. Where is the imagination and adventure in that? Okay, so the other Dr Who I've been watching - Resurrection of the Daleks - is set in London partly but the story is balanced with encounters in deep space and aboard a space station. The budget back in the early 80s must be far less than what it is now, yet I enjoyed these episodes so much more than the current Dr Who. It seems that the new version has become too cocky, too clever and Dr Who is, or at least shouldn't be, that at all.

The Doctor was more of a character back then. Although Peter Davison is not one of the better actors to portray the Doctor, he nevertheless gives the part a certain dignity and believability, something which I feel is absent from Tennant's portrayal. The scripts were not as sharp but they worked and the story-telling was first rate. All round the characters are more engaging and interesting.

Much the same could be said for The Day of the Triffids. This was a lot better than I expected and it owes a lot to its well chosen cast, a fine script and chilling music. The Triffids do not appear to be much of a threat although considering the budget and technical constraints of the time, they are reasonably effective. Moreover, its the story and the characters, which are particularly strong and make this series work as a sci-fi drama.

Another excellent sci-fi drama is Battlestar Galactica, a show that is always going to dark places and unsettling its audience. It is audacious, bold and gripping, just what good sci-fi should be. I can't sing the praises of this series enough, its just the best thing on TV at the moment. The series is now into its third season and is just hitting its stride. The shift in focus at the beginning of the series and concentration on the cylons has seen a series of stunning revelations, exceptional episodes and first-rate drama. It feels very real, very human and I like the fact that its characters are flawed and vulnerable. So often it has shown how there is more to the fight between humans and cylons than simply good and evil or right and wrong. There are terrible acts perpetrated on both sides and sometimes it is necessary to do evil things to preserve freedom.

I think that sci-fi should be like that. It should challenge our view of the world, our morality and beliefs. It should make us evaluate what being human means and as stated in one of the episodes of Battlestar Galactica it is not enough to survive, we have to earn the right to survive. Indeed, sci-fi for me should have an important message to convey about our contemporary world. Although it maybe set in a time or place far removed from our own, good sci-fi is about holding a mirror to ourselves.

What's my motivation?

That's what I am wondering at the moment. Work is still crap, monumentally boring days of the same dull repetitive processing applications one after another. This is not what I signed up for and its not stretching or challenging me in anyway. In fact I get so bored that I loose interest in what I do. I am sure I've made some silly mistakes but nobody seems to care, nothing gets checked, nobody can be bothered or has any time to be, so why should I? Its bad, I know. I am getting into a negative and corrosive mind-set, which isn't going to shift by me moping about at work all day, moaning about how rubbish it is. I suppose I should be looking for a new job but it all seems like a lot more hassle and I feel tired and fed up with work without thinking about doing something else.

Then there's my OU course, which I am finding just as much a struggle. An essay that should have been finished last week has been barely started. I never find writing essays easy. I struggle with the words, I am always unhappy with the end result even if I get good marks because I focus on what I should have done differently and better rather than what I did well. I find it a drag but know that I must get it finished by this weekend. Most importantly if I don't I miss the extended deadline and will fail the course. Secondly, I don't fancy spending the whole of Easter hammering out an essay that is driving me mad as it is.

As a result of feeling fed up and bored I've been over-eating. I shocked myself when I thought back on what I ate on Monday. In fact by the time I had my dinner I felt so bloated that I thought I was going to be sick. I've not felt completely well since and I am sure it is because of all the junk I am eating at the moment. It is just comfort food, although stuffing myself with food like that is just stupid. It shocks me just what a fine line it is between being perfectly normal and happy and loosing all control and being completely stupid.

Maybe as a result of all this, I've not been sleeping well, having some really bad dreams over the last couple of nights. I hesitate to call them nightmares although there have been occasions when I've woken absolutely terrified convinced that something awful has happened. I don't remember much about them afterwards, just an unpleasant and unnerving feeling.

I am hoping that the Easter break and my few days away the following week will help me to relax and get out of this negative cycle. If nothing else it'll give me some time to reflect and perhaps decide what I want to do going forward.