Last weekend I attended a family party. The occasion was the golden wedding anniversary of my aunt and uncle and the less prestigious wedding anniversary of their daughter; my cousin. We drove to the small village in Somerset just outside Taunton where they live. It was a lovely summer's evening as we took our place at the table in village hall with other members of my family.
Many of the older males on the paternal side of my family have a similar look and physiology. We are all short and of stocky build sporting beer bellies. We are generally good humoured and laugh a lot. A stranger might think they have stumbled onto a garden gnome convention. I have never attended a 'do' with my family and witnessed a stand up slanging match or a fight. However, like all families, ours is no stranger to intrigue and in-fighting.
Those people who say 'my family is my rock' or 'the most precious thing is family' clearly don't have one. Most families seem to be bubbling cauldrons of jealousy and resentment flavoured with squabbling siblings, backstabbing in- laws and with a generous dash of parental disappointment. Families are not governed by the same social graces that stop you verbally abusing your work mates to their face. It seems you can criticize close relations as much as you like with impunity, regardless of how hurtful it might be to them. Familiarity breeds contempt so they say, perhaps that should be family.
Looking at my dad and his brother chatting away in the corner, it struck me that it would soon be me and my brother sitting there in the autumn of our lives with our sons looking on and thinking 'look at that those two old gits'. If we manage to live that long and we are still talking to each other, it would be a good thing.
Tuesday, 28 May 2013
Tuesday, 21 May 2013
The Half-Hearted Buddhist.
I have always had a fascination with philosophy and ideas. I have read about the concepts behind most of the world's major religions and have a fair understanding of what they're all about. I have even read part of the Koran but I gave up as it is impenetrable unless you have spent a life time studying it. You can pick up the rudimentary points though. I wouldn't claim to be a Buddhist but of all the philosophical and religious teachings it's the one that appeals to me the most.
The main core Buddhist concepts make perfect reasonable sense which you can test empirically. You don't need to believe in a 'man in the sky' or do mental gymnastics to justify it. You don't need to have faith. You just need to follow the ' Noble Eightfold Path' or the eight laws which are basically: no lying or cheating, no intoxicating substances, living for the moment, showing compassion, earning your living by honourable means, don't covet shiny objects or be fooled by life's illusions. If you meditate hard enough you can even become Buddha yourself. Easy you would think... not so.
I do try and follow the Noble Eightfold Path but I am not very good at it. I make a point of being honest and truthful but anyone who knows me would say I was fighting a losing battle when it came to intoxicants. Fortunately, I am not materialistic and I do earn my living by what would be considered honourable means. I also try and take each moment as it comes. I particularly fall down on the compassion and reality fronts though.
I went to work early the other afternoon as I needed to pop into town to get some cards for upcoming family celebrations. I was already unreasonably annoyed that it had been raining all morning and I had visions of getting soaked walking into town. I had already prepaid for my parking but all the spaces were full so, after 10 minutes driving round searching, I had to park in a different zone and fork out once again. By now my mood was blacker than a coal miner's boots. I got soaked walking back from the town whilst I muttered curses at the leaden sky and the malicious wretches who had stolen all the best parking spaces. Clearly, my inner peace and harmony were disturbed because I wanted things to be other than they actually were. Whilst I was sitting in my car dripping and mentally shaking my fist at the world in general it occurred to me how ridiculous I was being. I began to smile at my own stupidity. No doubt the Buddha would be laughing at me as he was proved right once again.
I am not very compassionate. Some people are natural carers but I am not one of them. I am always happy to assist someone who's in a jam but I don't go around looking for people to help like a misguided Boy Scout. I am more of a 'pull your socks up and get on with it' type of guy. Have you ever been in one of those situations where you spot an elderly driver trying to get out of a junction, compassion kicks in and you let them out only to regret it moments later when they pull out in front of you and continue their journey at 20 MPH while the rest of the traffic disappears into the distance. I also kill spiders and various insects.
I don't think I am ready for the saffron robes just yet; they won't match my blue eyes anyway.
The main core Buddhist concepts make perfect reasonable sense which you can test empirically. You don't need to believe in a 'man in the sky' or do mental gymnastics to justify it. You don't need to have faith. You just need to follow the ' Noble Eightfold Path' or the eight laws which are basically: no lying or cheating, no intoxicating substances, living for the moment, showing compassion, earning your living by honourable means, don't covet shiny objects or be fooled by life's illusions. If you meditate hard enough you can even become Buddha yourself. Easy you would think... not so.
I do try and follow the Noble Eightfold Path but I am not very good at it. I make a point of being honest and truthful but anyone who knows me would say I was fighting a losing battle when it came to intoxicants. Fortunately, I am not materialistic and I do earn my living by what would be considered honourable means. I also try and take each moment as it comes. I particularly fall down on the compassion and reality fronts though.
I went to work early the other afternoon as I needed to pop into town to get some cards for upcoming family celebrations. I was already unreasonably annoyed that it had been raining all morning and I had visions of getting soaked walking into town. I had already prepaid for my parking but all the spaces were full so, after 10 minutes driving round searching, I had to park in a different zone and fork out once again. By now my mood was blacker than a coal miner's boots. I got soaked walking back from the town whilst I muttered curses at the leaden sky and the malicious wretches who had stolen all the best parking spaces. Clearly, my inner peace and harmony were disturbed because I wanted things to be other than they actually were. Whilst I was sitting in my car dripping and mentally shaking my fist at the world in general it occurred to me how ridiculous I was being. I began to smile at my own stupidity. No doubt the Buddha would be laughing at me as he was proved right once again.
I am not very compassionate. Some people are natural carers but I am not one of them. I am always happy to assist someone who's in a jam but I don't go around looking for people to help like a misguided Boy Scout. I am more of a 'pull your socks up and get on with it' type of guy. Have you ever been in one of those situations where you spot an elderly driver trying to get out of a junction, compassion kicks in and you let them out only to regret it moments later when they pull out in front of you and continue their journey at 20 MPH while the rest of the traffic disappears into the distance. I also kill spiders and various insects.
I don't think I am ready for the saffron robes just yet; they won't match my blue eyes anyway.
Sunday, 12 May 2013
Superstition
Last weekend was a lovely,bright bank holiday weekend. After the long dismal winter it was uplifting to see some sun and feel the warmth on your face. I love the summer and I am one of those embarrassingly sad people who have to get their shorts out at the first glimmer of sunshine; then wear them all summer regardless of how sunny it actually is. Picture the scene, there I am in the garden, in my shorts, tidying up and getting wistful about my first glass of wine in the garden when I am faced with the following dilemma, is it time to get the patio set out?
The reason it's a dilemma is because last year, if you remember, the Met Office were talking about severe droughts. I put the patio set out and within two days it started to rain and we had a very wet summer. My wife and I joked about it at the time but I love the summer and felt a tad cheated. I am not superstitious but don't believe in tempting fate either. I found myself thinking twice about getting the patio set out in case it brought the rains. Yes, I know it's ridiculous.
As stated, I'm not superstitious. I have never had a pair of 'lucky pants' or carried a rabbit's foot (which clearly wasn't lucky for the rabbit). I don't have routines to follow to ensure my world doesn't collapse and I'm not concerned about which way a black cat might be walking. I don't walk under ladders but that's due to not wanting something dropped on my head rather than any fear of impending doom.
Some people do take notice of these omens though and have rituals to ensure good fortune. For example; Ronnie Barker used to have the same breakfast in the BBC canteen before each show to ensure it went well. A slightly less believable anecdote concerns James Joyce who apparently carried a pair of doll's knickers in his pocket. A completely spurious claim I have come across states that George Orwell, before commencing writing for the day, would swim the English Channel, have a croissant and a coffee on the French side and then swim back again. I suspect this was fabricated by an American as their lack of geographical knowledge is legendary.
So you can see my dilemma, do I leave the patio set in the garage and hope for a good summer or do I get it out and tempt the rains. If you look out of your window you will see my decision, I got the patio set out. It started to rain on the Wednesday and has been cloudy and rainy almost every day since. So if we have a terrible summer it's my fault... sorry.
The reason it's a dilemma is because last year, if you remember, the Met Office were talking about severe droughts. I put the patio set out and within two days it started to rain and we had a very wet summer. My wife and I joked about it at the time but I love the summer and felt a tad cheated. I am not superstitious but don't believe in tempting fate either. I found myself thinking twice about getting the patio set out in case it brought the rains. Yes, I know it's ridiculous.
As stated, I'm not superstitious. I have never had a pair of 'lucky pants' or carried a rabbit's foot (which clearly wasn't lucky for the rabbit). I don't have routines to follow to ensure my world doesn't collapse and I'm not concerned about which way a black cat might be walking. I don't walk under ladders but that's due to not wanting something dropped on my head rather than any fear of impending doom.
Some people do take notice of these omens though and have rituals to ensure good fortune. For example; Ronnie Barker used to have the same breakfast in the BBC canteen before each show to ensure it went well. A slightly less believable anecdote concerns James Joyce who apparently carried a pair of doll's knickers in his pocket. A completely spurious claim I have come across states that George Orwell, before commencing writing for the day, would swim the English Channel, have a croissant and a coffee on the French side and then swim back again. I suspect this was fabricated by an American as their lack of geographical knowledge is legendary.
So you can see my dilemma, do I leave the patio set in the garage and hope for a good summer or do I get it out and tempt the rains. If you look out of your window you will see my decision, I got the patio set out. It started to rain on the Wednesday and has been cloudy and rainy almost every day since. So if we have a terrible summer it's my fault... sorry.
Sunday, 5 May 2013
The Great Divide
My Father mentioned to me last week that he had cancelled his internet connection because he doesn't use his computer. To anyone under 30 this would appear to be an act of foolishness akin to cutting off your own leg. The advent of the computer has brought about a sea-change in society and my generation seems to be the bridge between two alien worlds. There are some intrepid silver surfers who have managed to cross the divide but to most people over 70 the internet is a mystery of the dark arts. On the other hand, anyone under 25 couldn't imagine living without social networking, mobile phones or video games. They have grown up with computers and they are ingrained in the fabric of their lives.
My sons have no interest in making things with their hands or any curiosity about how things work. They have no idea of the satisfaction to be gained from mending something with tools worn smooth from age and use that used to belong to their grandfather. They lack the competence to take something apart to see how it works and then put it back together. People used to get fulfilment from working with wood or tinkering with cars but they don't bother anymore. Who can blame them when you can buy a brand new table from Ikea for £7 and get it delivered to your door and cars are too complicated to be tinkered with.
If you gave my Dad a physical problem to solve such as building anything from a cupboard to a patio, he would work out what materials he needed and how to put it together in his head. Then he would set about constructing it while overcoming any problems with practical ingenuity. My sons would have the same answer within a few key taps and bravely set about building it with no real understanding of what they were doing. It's not that either way is right or wrong, just far removed from each other.
And another thing... My Dad also mentioned that he would have voted UKIP had there been a candidate to vote for. He is fed up with the identikit public-schoolboy politicians in their indistinguishable parties spouting the same old rhetoric while they sell the country down the river. My wife agrees with him and so do a lot of other people judging by the big gains made by UKIP in the polls. It brings to mind another politician from the 1930's who was derided as a clown and irrelevant by the establishment but rose to power in a bankrupt country on a wave of nationalism. Perhaps Enoch Powell's 'Rivers of Blood' shouldn't be assigned to the prophesy dustbin just yet.
My sons have no interest in making things with their hands or any curiosity about how things work. They have no idea of the satisfaction to be gained from mending something with tools worn smooth from age and use that used to belong to their grandfather. They lack the competence to take something apart to see how it works and then put it back together. People used to get fulfilment from working with wood or tinkering with cars but they don't bother anymore. Who can blame them when you can buy a brand new table from Ikea for £7 and get it delivered to your door and cars are too complicated to be tinkered with.
If you gave my Dad a physical problem to solve such as building anything from a cupboard to a patio, he would work out what materials he needed and how to put it together in his head. Then he would set about constructing it while overcoming any problems with practical ingenuity. My sons would have the same answer within a few key taps and bravely set about building it with no real understanding of what they were doing. It's not that either way is right or wrong, just far removed from each other.
And another thing... My Dad also mentioned that he would have voted UKIP had there been a candidate to vote for. He is fed up with the identikit public-schoolboy politicians in their indistinguishable parties spouting the same old rhetoric while they sell the country down the river. My wife agrees with him and so do a lot of other people judging by the big gains made by UKIP in the polls. It brings to mind another politician from the 1930's who was derided as a clown and irrelevant by the establishment but rose to power in a bankrupt country on a wave of nationalism. Perhaps Enoch Powell's 'Rivers of Blood' shouldn't be assigned to the prophesy dustbin just yet.
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