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Right, first off, a  link to the petition so you can find it and sign it quicker than I did. Every piece I read online about it appears to omit this.

Teresa and I signed it this evening. The number of signatures when we signed stood at about 3.6 million. I’m encouraging everyone I know to sign it. Ok, so Europe and her institutions are far from perfect. But better to work from within, than outside.

I’ve liked snooker since I were a nipper. I think partly ’cause dad would watch it occasionally. We even had tiny kiddie’s table for a while! But as an adult I haven’t  watched or followed it much at all.

Just recently, however, during an extended period of complete mental and physical exhaustion (probably caused by my medical conditions), I’ve been getting really into it. For one thing, there seems to be more tournaments on, and very rapidly, one after another.

I’ve  even taken to exploring archival matches on YouTube. But yesterday/last night there was a live treat, in the shape of a Judd Trump vs. Ronnie O’Sullivan quarter final, in Llandudno, Wales.

The series is part of one of many sponsored by a betting company (see my recent rant about the rising tide of betting).  The players, in their dark and Conservative garb, and like the arena itself, act as advertising hoardings for the sponsoring companies. I try my best to block out this this tidal wave of in your face  mind-manipulation. But whereas I can mute the TV ads in the breaks, I can’t ‘mute’ auch visual material – eye-pollution – from within the game.

Still, onto the real meat of this post: I’ve discovered that I, like many others I would imagine, am a great fan of snooker in the ‘Hurricane’ Higgins/’Rocket’ Ronnie mode. And consequently the Trump/O’Sullivan match promised much, both players being renowned for flair and speed.

I didn’t see all of the afternoon session, but I saw enough to know Trump had gotten a 4-1 lead. And this conformed in many respects to the new kid on the block formula, of the younger Trump usurping the elder king of the game. The commentators, including Stephen Hendry, clearly favouring the young lion over the senior silverback.

When I picked up the game again properly, Trump’s lead had grown to 8-5. With Trump needing just two, and Ronnie needing five, on the form they’d been showing thus far, Trump remained the strong favourite.

And then came a pair of very long tactical frames. I suppose these are an essential part of the game. But, as the commentators themselves concede, they don’t really make great televisual viewing. Hendry made me laugh heartily at one point, clamming up for a while, before wryly asking his co-commentator, in a long-delayed riposte to the question ‘have you taken a vow of silence?’ asked what his favourite kind of food was. Yep, this may have been a gripping match of wills for the players, but endless safety shots leave viewers at risk of losing interest.

After Trump won the single longest such duel, of something over 45 minutes, to take the lead once again, it looked to be all but over. But what’s this? O’Sullivan found his vintage and celebrated form, storming to victory in the next two frames with consecutive century table clearances.

Any true snooker addict, I would assume, and certainly this one, prefers a decent fight to a whitewash. And at nine-all, that’s what we were enjoying, no mistake. But, like a well directed film or play, the greatest excitement still lay in store.

The final frame was a real peach: first Trump did what he’d been doing all through the match, playing superbly, and establishing a strong 50-0 lead, looking every bit the winner. But then he missed a fairly ordinary red, and Ronnie leaped in.

Then, after a decent but not long or strong enough visit, it was Ronnie’s turn to fluff it.

As Phil Yates observed, by this time they must’ve been running on adrenaline and instinct, which was no doubt a strong element of what made the final set so volatile and exciting.

Trump had had many chances to put the frame and match to bed and, on the yellow, looked like he couldn’t fail to do so. But playing like his younger less mature self, he tried to power it in. Rattling in the jaws, it stayed out.

Yates couldn’t believe he hadnt just rolled it in. Nor could I. Yates’ co-commentator, David Hendon said that wasn’t Trump’s way. I know what he means; Trump is known for his brash flash potting. But there had already been many times in this match where he’d shown exemplary delicacy of touch, rolling in slow wafer-thin acutely angled pots, many much tougher than this match-winning yellow.

Where Trump needed just the yellow, Ronnie needed all the remaining colours. And he proceeded to coolly pot them, taking his time, showing the maturity that’s given his extraordinary talent that added longevity. The match had truly been, as Jill Douglas excitedly and accurately described it, ‘epic’, even in the truly Tolstoyan sense, with the two 40-45 minute plus frames.

And in the end it came down to the final ball of the final frame.

When O’Sullivan potted the black, I was ecstatic, clapping at the TV like a truly demented loony fan, grinning ear-to-ear. The crowd loved it, the pundits loved it. Ronnie, punching the air and beating his chest, clearly loved it. What a match! Sports at its best.

I’ve only just learned of the existence of Judd Trump, which shows how long I’ve not been following the game (when I last ‘followed’ it, via my dad, ‘Hurricane’ Higgins, whilst past his best, still looked human). I really like Trump, and against most opponents would’ve been rooting for him.

But Ronnie really is a legend, with some sort of dark powerful charisma. I hope he goes on to win the series. He’s recently threatened to quit the game altogether. I hope he doesn’t. But if he won this, reaching world no. one again, and then quit. That’d be, like this match, high and nigh-on fairytale drama.

Oh, and this post wouldn’t be complete without mention of that pink.

I have to confess I’m quite surprised at the positive reviews this book has been getting on Amazon UK. Yes it covers a lot of ground. But boy is it boring! Jon Mathieu clearly knows a lot about his subject. But, as he says himself, this book evolved from lecture notes delivered to his students. And it reads that way.

Here’s a typical sample, from chapter five, ‘Paths To The Nation state’, under the subsection heading ‘Trajectories of Regional Development’: ‘Power relations as they existed before the consolidation of territorial state institutions in the 16th century were a starting point for the respective paths of constitutional development.’ Heavy going.

I’ve read a good number of books over the years that deal, as this does, with the interaction between landscapes and humanity, one of the best of which is Britain Begins, by Barry Cunliffe (or at another level, Earth, by Simon Fortey [1]). The best of this sort of writing manages to be both simple and accessible whilst conveying complex ideas about multifaceted interacting subjects. I found this to be rather leaden, and whilst mention is made of all sorts of exciting moments in history, from Hannibal to Napoleon, it never manages to be exciting.

There aren’t enough images in this book either. The two maps at the start are good. But more, and better detailed, would’ve been helpful. Indeed, I think decent geological maps, and more on the geology/geography, etc, not to mention occasional political maps, would’ve been good. Mention is also made of numerous objects d’art, but images of these, which might’ve imparted a bit of interest and excitement, are notable by their absence [2]. And the scant few images there are simply confirm that more would’ve been better.

Personally I found this hard going, and when I encountered, as I did numerous times, aspects in which I have a prior interest and relatively limited knowledge, such as the Napoleonic era, in which the Alps play a significant part, this book added little or nothing of interest. Whilst in other areas, such as Hannibal’s crossing of the Alps, or the part they played in WWI, where Italy fought the Austrian-Hungarian Hapsburg empire, about which is like to know more, the coverage is too minimal and dull to do what better books so often achieve, and inspire further reading/interest.

One of the few things I found interesting in the book is how in recent times a transnational European position on The Alps has been growing. One of the best things this has meant is that the Alps have ‘never been as peaceful … as they are today’. Mathieu attributes this to ‘the European unification movement’. And to my mind Brexit (never mind Trump and his wall) seems a retrograde development that threatens this trend toward internationalism, understanding and cooperation.

For me this was a missed opportunity. Overly academic in tone, and touching on many exciting and interesting subjects, and yet never really managing to scale the heights of exciting, or even climb the foothills of merely interesting. Disappointing.

I found the above video, on YouTube. Being short, succinct, and illustrated with imagery throughout, I enjoyed it much more than the book.

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NOTES:

[1] Admittedly the scope of these other books is bigger, especially Fortey’s Earth, in which humanity is a tiny part. But the basic underlying point is that these books are accessible, enjoyable, exciting, even inspiring. Turgid academic prose they not.

[2] One might’ve expected to hear mention of Caspar David Friedrich, and preferably see at least one of his paintings reproduced. There is a painting very like his work, showing the Slovenian Alpine peak of Triglav, by Markus Perhard.

‘As a homosexual and an intellectual, I belong to two … social groups that are particularly hated’ says Carolin Emcke, in her book Against Hatred. Originally published in 2016 in her native Germany, this recent English translation reads like an academic presentation, or PhD paper. That’s a pity.

Quoting people like Hannah Arendt and Jacques Derrida might go down well in certain intellectual/academic circles – folk like that were bread and butter for the staff/syllabus at Goldsmiths when I was there – but almost certainly won’t reach beyond people who, like me, largely share Emcke’s ideals already. So she’s really preaching to the converted.

Even though his books tend to be enormous and time consuming, I prefer Stephen Pinker’s approach, which is closer to the Dawkins/Dennett axis of scientific methodology. As a result Pinker’s perhaps/probably more likely to reach a wider audience, his reference points being less left-wing-Euro-cultural, i.e. more Charles Darwin than Jean Paul Sartre.

The back cover blurb mentions such things as passion, lucidity, brevity and precision. Well, I’m afraid it was only really the passion I could find. The text varies from occasionally straightforward to sometimes headache-inducingly convoluted (most especially so when quoting postmodernist thinkers), which does the very valid and timely underlying arguments no favours.

Emcke wants a pluralist, democratic, secular society. So do I. But not everybody else does, clearly! And it’s these people, and the ‘mechanisms’ that give rise to their feelings and actions that she’s ostensibly scrutinising and discussing. Brexit and Trump happened just after she first published the book, and are mentioned in the book’s Postscript as worrying symptoms of collective atavistic regression. Again, agreed.

But, and here there’s a strange irony, if any lessons from history both confirm and yet contradict Emcke’s hopes, beliefs and desires, it’s Nazi Germany. On the one hand Nazism (and similar irruptions around the world) proves that über-hatred carries within it the seeds of its own destruction. But on the other we had to fight fire with fire. It was the Hawks of the East and West who defeated Hitler, not the academic/intellectual Doves, who all too often wound up in jail, gulags or the gas chamber.

During WWII there came a point when lines were crossed by all parties, haters and the hated, even the bystanders, and – even though we can argue that the progressive powers of democracy (well, that holds to some degree for the Western powers, but certainly not Stalin’s Russia!) beat the retrogressive powers of fascism – pluralism failed to cope with or contain less tolerant ideologies.

It’s a tough subject, and whilst I agree with much of what Emcke says, the content, I was disappointed by the delivery, or form. I wouldn’t recommend this, to be honest. Instead set aside a bit more time and read Pinker’s Better Angels.

This lies just outside the scope of my mini-military hobby blog, I guess, so I thought I’d post a review here.

The Escape Line is an excellent book, telling the exciting story of ‘Dutch-Paris’, a clandestine group/line that ran from The Netherlands through Belgium and France to Switzerland and Spain, both sheltering and helping to escape Jews, downed Allied airmen, and others, such as young men fleeing conscription into German forced labour.

Johann or Jean Weidner (he chose to use the more French form of his name, being based in France) was a Seventh Day Adventist and textiles merchant who, along with his wife and an ever growing number of others, found himself drawn into a shady underworld, ostensibly at odds with his former standing as an upright law-abiding citizen, in order to help others and live in accordance with his own inner moral compass.

This well-written and researched book shines a light into this murky netherworld of underground but pacific resistance, which itself occurred during dark times. Finding funds, going on the lam, forging documents, crossing borders. There’s lot derring-do! Plenty of contemporary pictures and some useful maps help keep the whole thing both vivid and comprehensible. It’s very much a tale of ordinary people doing extraordinary things in extraordinary times.

A compelling page turner, set in Nazi-occupied Western Europe, the network and its stories spread their tentacles outwards from Weidner’s initial base in Lyons, France, to Switzerland and Spain, and up into Belgium and Holland. With characters such as couriers or hosts for fugitives ranging from young secretaries and mothers to elderly widows, and civilian passeurs, from French and Dutch clergy and businessmen to downed Allied airmen, Maquis resistance, Milice collaborators, the SS, SD, Gestapo and so on, it’s a very colourful cast.

It’s very interesting in respect of civil disobedience, and the potential conflict between individual conscience and the laws of the state. As Koreman says many times, most people during WWII in the occupied territories would rather look at the floor, so to speak, and try to just get through such troubled times without risking themselves.

In hindsight things at the tine of WWII can look simpler and more clear cut, in respect of an issue such as the persecution of Jews. But how can we apply such lessons as this story might impart for our own times? I have friends who are very active in helping refugees in the U.K. I have to confess I feel very conflicted about such issues as they are in the present.

I’ve got a huge stack of books to review, and was worried I’d find this a chore. But far from it. I was, rather appropriately, captivated, and felt compelled to continue. Indeed, it was hard to put down. I won’t go into any more detail here. Better that you read the book yourself.

It’s been a while since I posted here. Having got back into making regular posts on my mini-military blog and not having done too much in the home or garden beyond bits of maintenance tidying.

Yesterday I finally installed the first of the four or so fire-alarms we’ve had for some time now, in the guest/airbnb room. One down, three to go!

I’ve also had to prop up a couple of sections of fence, which are busted and sagging under the weight of some ivy. Didn’t want Storm Freya knocking them down! We need to do lots of work on our fence, as it’s very old and dilapidated. About 8-12 panels have either fallen down or are just about to. Some of these have subsequently been burned or dumped, leaving gaps.

Pine brackets for the curtain rail.

But another job has left Teresa breathing down my neck! She made a green velvet curtain for our back/kitchen door, a little while back, and has been on to me ever since about getting it up (fnarrr, fnarrr!).

Screw holes drilled all the way through.

I didn’t have a long enough bit for the top holes…

Starting a few days ago, I began work on some DIY wooden curtain support brackets, to my own design. Cutting the wood for these gave me the chance to use my recently acquired Kity 613 bandsaw for the first time.

She’s a good gal! But I need some new/finer blades. I only got one with the machine – a wide low tooth count one, best suited for deep/straight cutting – which I bought via Gumtree. I travelled up to Lincoln to buy the Kity, paying £300 (I managed to haggle the seller down from £400!). I had to take out the passenger seat in my little MX5 to fit the bandsaw in. Didn’t know if it’d work (transportation, that is)till I got there. But it did. Phew!

Just typing this as I take a tea-break, before drilling holes in my brackets, so as to mount them ‘pon de wall. I was going to buy a couple more blades for the Kity today, from Bedford Saw & Tool Co. But they make the blades to order, and didn’t have any in stock. They’re ordered now, at any rate. Just a question if collecting them when they let me know they’re ready.

I was able to drill the lower holes all the way through on my bench-top drill press. But the upper ones required drilling from both sides. I managed to get the first one perfectly aligned. But the second was ever so slightly off, and had to be drilled twice. But they both worked out fine when it came to installation.

Drilling locating holes for rawl-plugs and screws.

And she’s up!

Another angle.

Not having a narrow high tooth count blade on my Kity as yet, suitable for cutting tight curves, I had to break out the little old 10″ (chortle) bandsaw. That does have such a blade currently installed, allowing me to cut the curves on that. It struggled. But I cut near to the pencil line, and then used rasps and sandpaper to get a nicer smoother finish. I’m happy with the result.

I was considering a little bit of router-work ornamentation on the brackets. That’d give me a chance to try out my new router, which I’ve not actually used yet. But for some reason I’m a bit wary of doing so. Hmm!?

With the curtain in place.

From the lounge.

After another break I finally got it all in place, and the curtain up. I have to confess I was a little bit disappointed. I think that’s partly ’cause it should be painted gloss white. I might also plug the screw holes. I’m not going to bother routing any ornamentation on them, however. I might do so at some future point, or next time I make something similar.

Another thing is that Teresa hadn’t quite got the hang of consistent curtain manufacture yet. Sometimes the curtains are wide enough, i.e. contain enough material to have the right amount of ‘gather’, and look right. This curtain’s not really got quite enough material, width-wise.

The other more noticeable issue, with Teresa’s coitans: floppy tops! She’s taken to adding a strips of reinforcing material along the top edge, which is meant to stop this happening. And she’s done so here. But it’s still as limp as a drunken monk. I think she may need to locate the strip that the curtain hooks go through a bit higher as well?

So, there’s more to be done. I need to paint the brackets and the pole. And Teresa needs to do something about her floppy top.

Oh, and then there’s the small matter of inheriting a kitchen not to our tastes. I don’t like the style of it at all. I’ve already repainted the walls and some of the woodwork. I intend to gut the room entirely and rebuild all the cabinets, install a butler sink (which we already have), and so on… when time, funds and materials allow.

But for now, small modest changes.

I finally bowed to the inevitable, realising that my little bandsaw simply isn’t man enough to do the kind of work I need a bandsaw for.

So I started looking for something that’d better suit my needs. And afore long I lit upon the Kity 613 as a potential answer. They seem big enough – re height and depth of cut – very solidly built, and can be bought for about £250-300, which is as much (more, really!) as I could muster, max.

I followed one on eBay, which eventually sold for £260. But with the travel involved it’d have cost me in excess of £300. It also looked in very good condition. However, at the same time there was an even more pristine one listed on Preloved, complete with manual. Advertised at £400ovno, after some haggling I managed to persuade the seller to let me have it for £300.

Adding fuel costs to that – I had to drive to Lincoln and back (the eBay one was even further afield) – it probably set me back about £330 in all. Having only my MX5 with which to transport it, I decided I’d take the passenger seat out. That was relatively easy, thankfully. And it’s a good job I did. Even with the seat out it only just fit.

The seller and I removed the base, a sturdy two-part metal affair, which went into the boot (just!), along with the fence and manual, etc. The saw itself only just went in, leaned back at an angle and strapped in with bungees. Covered with a dust sheet it looked a bit like I had some sort of android under wraps in the passenger seat.

Clearing space for this full on bit of kit in the shed has meant moving a reclaimed table out. Not sure what’ll become of that? If it survives being outside for a while it might wind up in the art studio, if/when I get round to building that! Although I managed to transport the bandsaw from the lounge to the shed on my own, it’s both heavy and awkwardly shaped enough to mean I’m almost certainly going to need help getting it back up on to its base.

I now have two bits of ‘vintage’ Kity gear, this 613 bandsaw, and the as yet to be got functioning planer/thicknesser. As the weather starts to improve, I hope to get into the workshop more, and get these tools working for me. I have sooo many projects in mind!

Another archival post this, with the actual project occurring in late march last year.

Having no available cash at the time of my dad’s birthday last year, I decided I’d make him a gift. I made him a set of rosewood dominos, all entirely handmade, individually, by  me. Far from perfect in conception or execution. But he loves them. That’s the main thing!

The set, with pop’s b’day card.

Another pic of the full set, this time sat atop the green velvet bag teresa made, for Pa to keep his dominos in. Along with the green ‘pips’ on the dominos – green is a favourite colour of both my father and myself – this gives an overall theme of… well, green!

Tumbled about a bit, as if removed from their bag.

And in the bag, ready to be gift-wrapped and delivered.

I have ideas about making further sets of dominos, and improving on both design and execution in the process. As a kid my favourite thing to do with dominos was making domino runs (is that what they’re called?), in which you line ’em all up, and knock ’em all down. These days you see folk doing this stuff on a huge scale. I never had more than a couple of packs at my disposal. Maybe that’ll change?

In the meantime, ‘hippo birdy’ Pops, and I’m glad you like my ‘umble gift!

Is this man the real Father Christmas of soul? Michael MacDonald delivers a stunningly soulful solo rendition of his stunningly soulful meisterpiece, What A Fool Believes.

Another archival post, this time a rosewood sewing box, for Teresa’s birthday (May), last year. I should’ve, and was intending to, make it twice as deep. But in the end time ran out, so I went with a shallower design.

I enjoyed lining it in green felt, and felt (boom-boom) that it was a successful project, albeit far from perfect. Teresa really likes it, and that’s the main thing. Plus I learn something new with every project.