Thought Picnic: Accept my choices or lose your voices

A message without a practical purpose

The fights, the abuses, the physical violence in the name of discipline, the histrionics of which the detail cannot be revealed all wrapped up in the history of child development and parental adjustment or maybe parental development and child adjustment.

Many years ago, the message of the Messiah swept through campuses and before you knew it, they were caught on the message but not necessarily the messenger or its purpose but they were naïve and they thought they had found the truth.

The fact is, most of the time the purveyors of this message never looked at the life application parts of the making the message practical, they prayed prayers that never got answered and tried to move mountains that were the load-bearing walls of the world – indeed, they could move mountains but what if the world collapsed upon them?

It all made sense and really their lack of understanding made it all nonsense, not the message but the appreciation of the message.

The wrath of the parents

Then their parents found out, warnings followed threats, the withdrawal of support, the power of persuasion through the fear of the loss of support, physical violence predicated on beating the hell out of you – they already had the hell out of them by reason of their accepting religion, one would have thought.

The parents had other experiences, the taking up of religion seemed to have distracted once promising and ambitious people from their purpose and this new belief system made no allowances for having a balanced structure of life and faith.

They would eventually learn that time for deity does not necessarily equate to time in the religious house of worship, endless vigils, loud prayers and gesticulations not far off those of the prophets of Baal when they pitted against Elijah – Maybe you should scream louder, he taunted them – quoting from the Book with every sense of knowledge without accompanying wisdom – this world needs to be lived in successfully; if I might add, relationships need to be built and cultivated, character needs to be strengthened and our intellect is there for the purpose of stimulation.

Unfortunately, the religious landscape is still littered with fanatics rather than scholars, followers of religious celebrities rather than a collegiate of knowledge experts, people looking to be entertained with the spectacular rather than ones who are vessels of power and wonder – it has not changed, it has gotten worse.

The first ambush

Back to the parent-child dichotomy, beyond all that is the ambush – the ambush involves getting every respected, reverenced and feared personality in the purvey of the parents to prevail on the child.

With mock encouragement, inducements, bribes and more serious threats, the child is caught between the polarities of dogged stubbornness as a sign of fervent faith and apostasy as a sign of respecting and honouring ones parents – it should never have been that stark a choice with accommodation on both sides, but we all had been poorly schooled – the threats continue as the parents still unrelenting do the unspeakable and the child is scarred with the unmentionable.

The new ambush

That hell has passed and they have moved on the parents having accepted that the child would really do what it has determined to do and somehow in all the fuzziness of the chaotic moments a quarter of a century ago something has blossomed – the child has not become a social misfit as the mother once said, nor is the child amounting to nothing as the father did say.

New battles have started and it is now all troops on a warpath – the child has not "matured" in their eyes because vows have not been taken, the child is not "responsible" because it has no responsibilities of rearing a brood of childlins – the parents are angst ridden, wily, intrusive and have basically reverted to type; bludgeoning the kid with their desires.

At a time when great celebrations are to be had, when the presence of the child at such great occasions would be welcome, the child wonders and resolves that this time – accept my choices or lose your voices in my affairs.

This great occasion offers the opportunity for an ambush – do I want to walk into this one – I think not. The thinking continues somewhere else in the vast cathedral of the mind.

Note: I had planned to call this The Ambush but as I poured out my thoughts the new title as a Thought Picnic seems the most suitable.

Voyage to the land of the friendly volcano

Tenerife Classica

Yesterday, I went on my third tour to the Canarian island of Tenerife but I wanted to do something different.

In my previous visits, I had gone to Loro Parque, known for its parrots, penguins, dolphins, seals, orca whales and orchids, I had done the general tour and the behind-the-scenes tour, but I felt there was more to Tenerife than that attraction.

A day trip to Tenerife from Gran Canaria is as easy and as difficult as it might seem but it could easily be a 20-hour day from when you are picked up from the hotel in the morning until when you are dropped off at night.

This tour was called Tenerife Classica and supposedly was to take you on a tour of Tenerife and up the Mount Teide which peaks at 3,717 metres above sea level.

Earlier or worse

The hotel had prepared an early breakfast for my wakeup call at 05:45 hrs and the bus pickup at 06:30, there were a few more pickups around our area of the island till we got to a rendezvous point at San Agustin where other tourists joined us and we had the first change of guides.

For the trip, I did not think the bus was that comfortable, I had the feeling it was going to be the main vehicle throughout the whole journey as was the arrangement for the Loro Parque tours I had been on before.

At Las Palmas we picked another guide who saw us to the port at Agaete where we boarded the catamaran ferry to Santa Cruz de Tenerife which takes 70 minutes.

Sea me or see food again

Honestly, I would make the worst deck hand, I have no sea legs, I dosed up on mints, closed my eyes and listened to classical music as the vessel rock to a rhythm that kept my stomach in churn of butterflies and moths for hours after.

How I had the constitution not to see my breakfast or last night’s dinner escapes me, but I was so glad that it was over when we finally arrived, I think many others fared a lot less than I did, my sympathies went to them – it was the roughest of all the journeys I had made to Tenerife ever.

Amen to the tour guide

We boarded another more comfortable tour bus and had another tour guide, we were changing guides like the changing of the guard, only we were not royalty.

We were told Tenerife was the largest of the Canarian Islands and as he switched between German, English, French and Spanish the musicality of his diatribes are nigh on a Latin mass without the incense.

In fact, each language was delivered with the rapidity and intonation of Spanish, he was well into the third language before I realized he had finished the first – no pauses whatsoever between the languages.

The Spanish have invaded

German is typically the first foreign language on Gran Canaria and Tenerife because the German are always invading these islands, it does not appear anyone is complaining, but the way the tour guide went on about the Spanish conquerors of the 14^th Century, you’ll be forgiven for thinking it happened yesterday.

Somehow, I have the feeling that Canarians still carry a sense of loss of pride and independence because of that and it have seeped down through the generations as a angst ridden association with mainland Spain which is some 2,000 kms up North.

In all we heard that Santa Cruz de Tenerife was the capital and Tenerife was the largest island, with the highest mountain, it became the refrain to the canticles of the tour narrative.

Mounting expectations

And so we made for Mount Teide, in fact, I thought we were going to climb it after a point, but the first realisation was that the mountain we used to see our drive-bys towards Loro Parque was not in the back yard, it was a good 54 kilometers into the hinterland land through forests to a moonscape terrain that fills you with bewilderment.

The first stop for coffee and conveniences was in the large humidifier, I correct myself, we were in the clouds which had a constant wetness as if it was continuous rain, no dehumidifier could survive an hour sucking the moisture out of the air, we were at just about 1,000 metres up and we all thought that was how it would be until we go to the top of the mountain.

About 200 metres above that we are in the pine and eucalyptus forests where we learnt that eucalyptus trees grow so far and that is why the bark gets naturally stripped off and they are a menace because they suck up so much water from the soil.

Unending sunshine

Soon we were in the glow of the sunshine, see Mt Teide from afar in its glory but without the winter snow cap, to one end we could also see the Izaña Astrophysical Observatory – Tenerife above the clouds boasts over 300 days of clear skies and sunshine – between Tenerife and La Palma they have the most concentration of observatories.

We never got to summit Mt Teide, it does have a cable car that can take you to the top but I suppose that comes as part of a tour for guests holidaying on the island itself, but we heard enough about Father Teide waiting to regale us, succour us and give us the pleasure of its beauty, to have gone to the summit would have belittled its mystique and been an anticlimax

Geology 101

But there was a moonscape around the mountain with lava flows stopped and recorded in time – my geology knowledge was updated as I realised that lava might flow like liquid and present a deceptively smooth looking surface, no could be further from the truth when it all solidifies, it is lots of rocks and big ones at that.

The Canarian islands are extrusions from volcanic activity that have occurred over millions of years and there are been more recent volcanic erupts, we were told the black looking lava flows were young at just under a thousand years and we could not for certain say the volcanoes were extinct – we were at that point introduced to the friendly volcanoes that have not erupted and disrupted lives for centuries.

I could not say I know the difference between calderas or craters, they all belong to the same kind of volcanic landscape but we go to the highest point we would at the cathedral and that was a view to behold – it was breathtaking as it was wonderful.

And the rest of the day

It leaves one amazed that people could visit the islands and be stuck between the beach, the hotel and the bar that shows familiar stuff one is used to at home when the beach is hardly the best expression of the beauty of the island.

I have gotten my dose of the sun already and would have to apply some suntan lotion to my bald head, it has so seriously been sunburnt I look like a character off Star Trek and I am moulting – Bah!

By the time we were back through the clouds to the South of the Tenerife where we were let loose in the tourist shops for 75 minutes, the day was far gone.

A stop over at the cartel restaurant offering Canarian fayre and cheap plonk was good enough, I swore off the plonk and did end up scoffing so much ice cream in one day, I’ll have to do purgatory.

The journey back was better, the sea was calmer and my stomach did not churn at all, I was dropped off at my hotel at 21:27 hrs and the dinner left in my room did not once appeal to me.

Pictures will be published in earnest.

Thought Picnic: Justifying MPs Expenses

A broadsheet village rag

It would be disingenuous of me to pretend that The Daily Telegraph looks anything like the quality paper I am familiar with.

Over the last week we have been regaled with a catalogue of the expenses of the UK Members of Parliament (MP) which were apparently purchased under from underhand scheme and have been revealed under the atrocious auspices of public interest.

I have found more editorial finesse in the Court Circular pages, the Obituaries and Sport pages, elsewhere, besides the business pages and a few reviews; I might well be viewing the titillating smut of Page 3 girls and gossip columns.

There might indeed be some public interest in what for 6 days is beginning to look like village gossip and tittle-tattle on expensed claims which tap on the sensational rather than core objectives.

Home away from home

When on holiday or when I stay at a hotel, I expect it to be of a particular standard which for me is a minimum comfort of my home or better – I am not one to stay in a 1-star cockroach infested dump, with no recourse for any redress.

Also, I have never really liked expense claims, I probably have thousands of pounds and Euros of receipts that I have never put through just because I thought they were an encumbrance and hard work.

If I did have a personal assistant, I probably would have given that task away and let things take their course.

The alternative to these revealed claims for homes, furnishing and upkeep would be a more expensive burden on the taxpayer and it is hypocritical for the papers not to view that perspective.

The alternative costs

The MPs are probably the equivalent of middle management, I would think that means a 4-star type hotel would be typical which in London could be upwards of GBP 250 per night – spending 100 days in London for parliamentary business would easily add up to the payments they get for a second home.

This does not include meals which would be fully expensed if they were in hotels rather than in their homes at about GBP 50 per head, if these MPs have families they cannot be completely excluded from the wellbeing factor of the MP.

Porn-ed expense

I was amused rather than annoyed when the husband of the Home Secretary put in claims for premium television viewing of pornography. Here we have a man whose wife is out serving the country in London and he at the constituency home tending the roost. In the need for some conjugal fellowship he makes for the less controversial between calling and escort or watching pornography.

How much sacrifice should a consort have to make in service of fatherland before their needs can be justified? I was amused, definitely not annoyed.

More than just a person

If the standard for expense claims is what an MP needs to do his job, I would add comfortably, because a person serving their constituency in privation and in a less than comfortable environment is not going to an effective MP.

The hotel solution would not have worked because about 500 hotel room rooms would have to be block booked in London for about a hundred days with changing seasons and rate with the possible unprofitability to hoteliers.

Having a second home in London is necessary and when you spend a considerable time away from your home constituency you want your London home to have a modicum of comfort, an MP is not a student living in digs.

By the time the home is furnished to a particular standard based on the John Lewis list, the costs add up, we should not forget, it is a home, not a hotel. If the MP has family, you have to consider the possibility of family visiting and suddenly an MP having a second home in London is not just some island of a person but a subject of humanity with needs as an MP that cannot be narrowly focused on the individual.

Time for things or deeds

Constituency work can be time-consuming and quite involved and there is the garden to tend, the swimming pool to clean and all sorts of household chores that suddenly require help because the MP cannot attend to them – they all then become expense claims.

To look at the claims in isolation of just the claim itself is unfair, there is a whole set of circumstances that result in what has been revealed in the receipts and this is leading to policy on the hoof to allay public anger, there might be anger, I view it more as jealousy because very few of the so-called indignant public would have acted differently if they were MPs.

No laws broken

But that is still beside the point, the real issue is no laws were broken, there was a reviewing board to challenge the expenses if they were irregular, if the board had no teeth, then that is not the fault of the MPs but the regulatory framework necessary to monitor expenses.

That needs to be changed, a retrospective analysis of expenses going back 4 years is as arbitrary as it seems, why not 2 years or why not since parliament was started – it is absurd and I think MPs should stand and defend the claims that have so far been passed, it is what is done from hence that should matter but with a bit more thinking rather than being driven by drivel to create rules that would not stand the test of time.

There is the nuanced view of the spirit of the law as opposed to the letter but that is more from the perspective of those who sit in judgement and envy rather than the participants.

Finally, the bigger question is? Do we pay our MPs enough? We probably don’t, this then raises the question of choices made by the person to be an MP, the availability of talent that would not take such a career path because of poor remuneration and what really helps an MP do their job whether that involves the complete welfare or the singular needs of the person alone.

Meanwhile, can I claim my holiday on expenses?

Hotel life: Faced with scary mornings

The company of tables

I was down for breakfast and my inability to remember faces got the better of me. Guests get allocated a table for dinner for the duration of their stay in the hotel.

Being alone I have always required that I be put on a table adjacent to others so that I could strike up conversation and hopefully have my dinner with a modicum of social significance rather than rushing through a 3-course meal in less than 30 minutes.

The maitre ‘d always seems to get it very right, I usually get sat next to English speaking guests and I also have the choice of moving tables or having an earlier sitting for dinner. This could be 18:00hrs instead of 20:00hrs, I prefer the later sitting.

Cannot see it all

The retired couple is from Yorkshire, Skipton in fact which seems to have a reputation that could make my face go bright red – the Women’s Institute there is breaking new ground at least that is where the Calendar Girls [1] are from, the demure ladies who have posed for calendars with strategically place home goods to cover their obvious nudity.

This break with traditional country wife imagery was to raise money for leukemia research and the calendars have raised upwards of 2 million pounds.

However, it highlights the fact that you can never know what goes on in these places and when you do, do prepare to be shocked if you have feeble sensibilities.

Having good company

Robert and Vera are quite likeable though I have not been able to glean enough about them, I know that Vera has been a secretary in education and in the car industry, she appeared to have enjoyed what she did, in fact, I suggested that secretaries are usually the lifeblood of a business even though they are not accorded that much recognition for their services.

A few days ago, Vera seemed to choke on a her steak that she was almost violently sick, I was quite concerned but in what could only be evident when observed Robert was immediately by her side ready to do everything to make her comfortable and better.

He had immediately passed her his napkin, but then from observation he was almost more chivalrous than a knight, it was touching but isn’t that was long marriages are supposed to do?

A morning of terror

Anyway, like I said at the beginning of the blog, I saw this lady sat reading a paper which I should have first checked was English before becoming too forward in my enthusiasm to be friendly.

I thought it was Vera so made to say Good morning, and persisted till she acknowledged my presence, it was then that I realised it was not Vera but I had to follow through the awkward situation I had put myself in.

I was not prepared for the response, she was first startled, she jumped in what was certainly not mock terror and was too late to gather herself to respond and suddenly I felt like a gold-digger with an interest in a sugar mummy – I could not have been more embarrassed as I made for my seat sorry for the fact that the lady must have had some experiences in her life that probably should be left untold.

Single older women in luxury hotels, well, I just have to be very, very careful, I cannot be responsible for situations that could create serious emergencies – that is hotel life, for you.

Sources

[1] Calendar Girls - Wikipedia, the free encyclopedia