In the wise words of Miss Burke

I once asked Miss Burke why she didn't have a Blog. She replied that she would either have nothing to say and rarely post (like some other bloggers?, or (like me) write down every single thought that drops out of my head and regret it later.

How right.

But the problem for me isn't that I regret it later. The problem for me is that just about every time I've caused offence, I've had absolutely no idea that I would. Even when I've launched a thousand word attack against somebody, I've never stopped to think about how they would respond. Nine times out of ten when somebody I've slagged off responds in kind I'm mortified. I simply can't understand how I could have been so insensitive.

But the fact remains - When I get up to a keyboard and start writing I am insensitive to everything else. I don't know if I'm kidding myself on, acting out a role, or pretending to be somebody I'm not. But somehow I feel the urge to write as being so compulsive, so addictive, that I never even stop to think about who might be on the receiving end. Does this only happen to me? Is this evidence of some sort of OCD or is it just plain ignorance?

Words are very powerful. We all know that, especially in these days of fundamentalism and misinformation. I've been posting so long that I can't even remember what my agenda is any more. Today I've composed an essay about the need to scrap single faith schools in the UK. I can add that to today's other output - a long rant about the Conservative Party placing anti-emigration policies at the heart of their agenda, a couple of well crafted paragraphs about the "point of no return" being set by environmentalists as just ten years away, and a detailed look at the myths and mistakes of the Jehova's Witness movement.

None of these have actually been written, you understand. But just because I'm not actually writing doesn't mean that I ever take a break from composing what I would be writing, if I had access to a computer during the day.

Terry Pratchett touched on this compulsion in his book "The Truth", which was a parody of the newspaper business. He decided that the printing press was a kind of animal. A very hungry animal that always wanted feeding. You could offer it a story but its jaws would still be open for more. You could never satisfy it, only keep it quiet for a little while.

I write in the same way I used to smoke. I write when I'm worried, I write when I'm happy. When I'm not writing, I'm thinking about writing. I don't even care if it doesn't get read. Ever since Marris and Wade failed to impress an agent I've still been working on the second book.

Somebody asked me what I'd do if I won a million pounds. I told them I'd get a very quiet room with a computer and order pizza. Life's passing me by, and there just isn't time to write about it all.

A whole week in work and I’m still smiling!

Sorry I haven’t updated in so long. As I get more used to the working week I’ll be able to make more time for posting. For now I’m just happy to be in full time work. I love the job! It’s so very different to everything I’ve done up to now. There isn’t even a computer on the desk! How can they call this work if they don’t need me to use a mouse?

Just to fill you in on the details (Which will make all future stories make more sense), It’s my job to represent a building company which is renovating old social housing properties. To save money, the people remain inside the properties while they are being rewired, re-roofed and refurbished. These homes aren’t exactly stately and some of the people who live in them aren’t what you might call the cream of society. Public owned social housing exists as a safety net for people who are unable to buy or rent privately.

I’ve been assigned to a man called Russell, who’s a couple of years older than me and a lot more experienced in the ways of the world. A day spent with Russ is time well spent. He’s been around the block (metaphorically and literally) more than a few times and he’s opened my eyes to just how manipulative people can be when they think there might be a chance of making a claim for damages or compensation.

One of the first things we did was take a trip around the estate and drop off cards. These are just small notelets to introduce the company and ask the tenants to call head office and make an appointment for us to come around and explain things further. I took a few of the cards and went to drop them off.

Grime and Punishment

As soon as I’d got around the corner I knew something was wrong. The garden was a scrap heap of smashed up computer parts, old televisions and electric motors. There were rotting boxes and splintered crates scattered amongst the long grass. Half way up the garden path was a set of rusted railings that blocked my way. They were leaning, unfixed, with a hand painted sign – “Beware of the Dog”.

“Hello?” I called, a little timidly. The house was so run-down it was almost organic. Ivy had grown up the front, blocking out the light from most of the windows, which were so filthy it was hard to see through them. The front door was open, revealing a porch filled with trash , black bin bags and supermarket carriers overflowing with nameless grime.

“Hello?” Silence.

Perhaps I should step over the railing that barred my way? But if a dog decided to come after me, how long would it take me to get out? Perhaps I could just throw a card in the direction of the doorway and make a run for it? But what would be the point? In a house so full of old trash, it wasn’t as if they’d notice it.

It’s difficult to get across just how sinister the place seemed. I’m not a big believer in auras or vibrations, but the house just seeped a sense of quiet malice. The longer I stayed, the less I wanted to meet the occupants.

I chickened out. I turned tail and headed for Russell’s car.

Russell took the lead. I handed him the card and let him go first. Walking back up the path I actually think I hid behind him. “Hello?” He shouted, seemingly oblivious to the presence of evil.

A dog began barking. It sounded big. Its teeth sounded particularly sharp. I couldn’t help look at the lean-to iron fence and wonder if it would be strong enough. A long moment later, somebody appeared at the door. He was slight, at least fifty years old, with a wild shock of candyfloss white hair. He wore a biker’s outfit of blue jeans and a leather waste coat, all of which were stained and filthy.

“Hello there!” Russell smiled, confidently. “We’re from the construction company.”

“Hiya.” I said, weakly. Trying a grin that must have turned out looking like anything but convincing.

The man took the card from Russ like a squirrel with a nut, and regarded us through pale eyes which were buried deep in dark eye sockets. He flicked a biro constantly, his whole body in a perpetual state of nervous convulsion that made him sway like a marionette while his jaw worked furiously on what I think must have been gum. At least, I hope it was gum.

And that was that. Russell told him to ring the number on the card, and we left. I felt as if I were stepping out of a very dark building. When we got back onto the street, the air seemed fresher.

“There’s no way we’re going to let them work in there.” Russell told me. “We’ll get Housing on to it. But we’ll have to tell them to send more than one. There are two men in that house and I wouldn’t want the council to send a girl without an escort. It just wouldn’t be safe.”

I was going to ask him how he knew. But I played the whole scene over again in my head and just nodded.

Buying principles

A couple of days later I had been called in to see a couple of tenants in sheltered accommodation. This is where the council puts its most vulnerable people, usually after retirement. It’s what I always used to refer to as “Pensioner Flats”.

My brief was simple enough: The construction company had dropped a large container on their front garden that would become the rest building for the workmen. It was my job to deal with the resident’s objections and get them to agree to it being there, even though it filled the view from their living room windows, was bright yellow and blocked out all the natural light, I somehow had to persuade them that it would be a good idea to let it stay. To assist me in this, I had a budget of £300.

The conversation went something like this.

ME – Exactly what is it about this that’s upsetting you?
OLD LADY – Well, it’s there out of the window. I can’t see out. It’s just a yellow wall.
ME – Well, we’re very sorry for the inconvenience. We can understand it must be upsetting for you.
OLD LADY – And it blocks out all the light. There won’t be any summer sunshine.
ME – I can see that, although it will be gone by May.
OLD LADY – And it makes the room dark.
ME – Well, the company is happy to compensate you for that. How about a bit of extra money for letting them keep it here? It should offset your extra lighting cost, at least.
OLD LADY – It’s not the money. Money doesn’t mater. This is about the principle of the thing.
ME – Oh, I see. I understand. It’s just that I’ve been authorised to offer you up to a hundred pounds.
OLD LADY – A hundred? Oh, that would be fine, love. Would you like a cup of tea?

Alan Bennett would be so proud.

Tsunami Relief Responses

I’m drinking Gin in the conservatory, occasionally looking out over the hills of Cartworth Moor at the twinkling yellow lights that mark the occasional farm entrance. It’s a peaceful scene, despite the occasional sting of hail on the ceiling windows. I’m warm, and I’ve just helped myself to yet another slab of Christmas cake. Today I dragged everyone out in the rain for a walk around the reservoir to mark the New Year.

I just thought I’d let you know I was comfortable. I think it’s important to remember these things when we’re about to write about suffering and tragedy. Despite what might be perfectly honourable intentions on my part, I think it’s only right to admit that I’m sitting in luxury as I have them.

Enough Force to Move the World

According to the BBC report I heard, the force of the earthquake was enough to shake the earth’s axis by an inch. I didn’t take that in for a while. I had to think about it: The whole world being knocked by any measurable distance implies a strength of force that it’s almost unimaginable. Think about how much force would be needed to move something like an oil tanker by an inch. And now think about how tiny an oil tanker is compared to the whole planet.

Martyr73 wrote a great passage about the force of the quake which you can read here.

So, you could say that this is catastrophe has quite literally shaken the world. I know it’s done a lot to change mine just now. But it seems that every few years there’s a major event that will ‘change the world for ever.’ And I’m sure that within a year or so we will all be making off handed references to Asian Tsunami in the same way we casually slip 9/11 or Tinanmen Square into a conversation. Although this is a tragedy of almost science fiction proportions, it is already old news. The Tsunami is now merely the most significant earth-changing event since the last one.

Some Boring Money Figures

I was talking to Cygnus about this, and he told me he’d taken some money down to Oxfam. It wasn’t a lot of money but it was all he could afford. He gave it on the assumption that if everyone did the same then the world would be a better place, and it seems that everyone else in the country had the same idea! In the first 24 hours, The British public had raised $39m. A day later, and that total stood at $80m. The British Government stand out as a significant contributor at $95m as their original promise of just $29m was derided by the public who were far more generous.(Seattle Times)

For my part I’m very proud of the response of the British people and of the government. Retailers have wailed for most of the festive season that people just don’t have enough money to spend. And yet when something like this happens we can collectively raise more than twice as much money as the American government, which (until yesterday) had offered just $35m. That figure may seem like a lot until you learn that $35m is comparable with 0.026% of the money the US government has spent on Iraq in the last two years. (BBC News, 30 Dec 2004)

Democratic Party Congressman Patrick Leaty addressed this in fine style, claiming that he “went through the rood when I heard them bragging about $35m. We spend [that much] before breakfast in Iraq.”

So yet again, the tail wagged the dog and the public of the USA put enough pressure on their own government to increase the amount of aid by a factor of ten, which is good. American businesses are certainly leading the way in terms of contributions, with pharmaceutical corporation Pfizer giving a total of $35m and Coca Cola $10m. (Washington Times)

But I still can’t help but wonder why there is such a difference between the $18m collected by the American Red Cross and the $39m collected by the Disaster Emergency Committee in Britain, or why nations such as Australia and Germany should be content with contributions of $27m.

Mind The Gap

I’m not pointing the finger of blame. This is a genuine attempt to understand. Is the fact that we once colonised and subjugated India more likely to make the British feel a sense of responsibility towards India? Or is it simply down to the large number of British Asians who live in our country? I’d rather believe it’s the latter, but I really don’t now the answer. When Diana, Princess of Wales died, I witnessed the national outpouring of what I called ‘me-too grief’ with a sense of revulsion. I suppose it’s hypocritical of me not to see this disaster response in the same light.

But I want to believe that we’re so integrated as a nation, so truly multicultural, that we now see a tragedy such as this without noticing the distances involved. I’d like to think that we don’t see yet more helpless third world people, that we just see father and son, and daughter and granddaughter. Have we really come so far despite the best efforts of the right wing press and the British National Party?

But rather than looking for the reason why the British public was so generous, perhaps there’s more to be gained in looking at the lack of a proportional response from the private citizens of the USA. In saying this I realise I might well insult and alienate a good percentage of Blog readers, but I’m dwelling on the facts as they have been documented.

I’m playing with a hypothesis at the moment that revolves around the assumption of Divine Stewardship. It’s perhaps not the most elegant name for a theory, but it’s helping me come to terms with the fact that Republicans have little regard for environmental protection. In a nation in which (according to a Gallup survey in 1980) more than 40% of the population believe that the Bible is the “actual word of God and is to be taken literally, word for word”(‘Fundamentalism’ by Malise Ruthven), it’s not difficult to understand that many people think that the fate of the world is still very much in God’s hands.

This can give way to two neat little assumptions that make life a lot easier for somebody such as an oil driller who might be tempted to worry about the environmental damage caused by his pollution.

1 – An all powerful God has the power to heal the earth and restore it at will. Since He would never allow His children to die out there is no real need to worry about environmental issues. God will repair the earth when He sees fit.

2 – We all await the End Times. God has a plan for us all and it involves some people getting hurt. The earth is a finite plane of existence which will be swept away and replaced with a clean sheet after the Second Coming. Many non believers will die in this process, but we shouldn’t waste our time feeling sorry for them. They had their chance of redemption and they chose to ignore the Gospel.

This mindset is (in my opinion) at the core of Right Wing philosophy and its government policy. In this context, what happens to Muslims in Indonesia or Hindus in India seems a lot easier to deal with. These things probably should happen over there because the only the Righteous Few deserve to be protected.

I can’t help but wonder what a Literalist oil driller tells his children when they ask where oil came from. Is it just black stuff that God put down there ten thousand years ago to make them rich? If so, how come the Arabs got so much of it, too?

Suspicious Minds

But I’m going off on a tangent (as usual.) You don’t have to look far to find people who worry that there is too much money being spent on aid for the tsunami victims. One of my own family was getting angry with the government a few days ago. Her objection was that the government had announced $29m in aid. “When you want the money for an operation, or to help the needy in this county they haven’t got it. But as soon as anything like this happens they’re bloody well giving it away.” In fairness, this attitude is very common among tens of thousands across the country.

The world is changing quickly and it’s leaving an awful lot of people behind. What she said, in many ways, is perfectly valid; the government does waste a fortune on red tape and lost causes. Sometimes it seems like our Patron Saint should be Jude rather than George. It’s just that I can’t imagine anyone begrudging the survivors anything at a time like this.

Right wing tabloids are quick to point out the figures we spend in aid, but very few have made reference to the fact that India has made $115m available for aid relief. (Al Jazeera) I know it’s only right that it should do so, but that’s precisely my point; Conservatives love asking why ‘these people’ aren’t helping themselves. They just choose to ignore the fact that they actually are.

Far more common, and perhaps more understandable, are the assumptions of many people who have learned over the years that aid can be abused. Where ever there’s a flow of money, you’ll always find people inserting themselves into the plumbing. I can understand anyone who’s heard reports of the terrible corruption in many developing regions and been put off handing over cash on the assumption that it’s only going to get intercepted by a local warlord or corrupt government official.

I was having this conversation with my dad and he was making pretty much the same point. My immediate response was to argue that corruption is something that usually sets in. It doesn’t just happen overnight. The network of middle men which siphons off aid in areas such as The Democratic Republic of the Congo or Iraq has developed and evolved over a number of generations. The trickle of foreign wealth in these places is part of the infrastructure. It’s dependable, reliable and stable. The aid provided by the DEC is a rapid response to people in immediate need. At this stage, things are moving too quickly for criminals to even get organised enough to make a killing. A steady flow of sewage will attract a steady flow of flies, but a big enough deluge of shit will knock even a rhino over.

Profit is Theft

But it started me thinking: Why should the cost of relief aid be so expensive? If it normally costs a dollar for a bottle of water, then why should the aid agencies need a million dollars for a million bottles? Somewhere, somebody is making a huge profit. Every penny that’s donated is going to be spent. And that means that somewhere in the world, an awful lot of people are going to end up obscenely rich after this.

And that’s what’s worrying me now. The collective might of the World Bank should be able to force companies to trade with the agencies at (or near) cost. If the actual production cost of a bottle of water is ten cents, then why can’t the World Bank buy them in at eleven cents each? Why should it cost ten thousand dollars to fuel a plane when OPEC should be prepared to underwrite the cost of the aviation fuel?

Nobody who is selling to the relief agencies, whether it’s blankets or helicopters, should be allowed to charge any more than what they absolutely need to. I don’t mean that we should be able to requisition everything we need, but I do think that anybody who makes a profit from dealing with this tragedy – even an honest profit – is defrauding the generosity of donors and people in great need.

I ran this past my dad the next day. “Now you’re getting my point.” He said.

But, for that matter, what about everyone else who makes money from this? What about the increased newspaper circulations? What about the dramatically increased advertising revenue garnered by commercial news channels when they run their ’Tsunami Specials’? What about the airlines who quite legitimately offer a service to the affected areas, or the manufacturers of pain killers and bandages who expect big orders this month?. Where do we draw the line?

At a time such as this, was it immoral for the apocalyptic firework display in London to commemorate the New Year? Is it wrong for somebody to spend £100 in the January Sales when they could have given it to Oxfam instead? And what about the Café owner who sells Indian tea? Should he feel obliged to hand over his takings this month?

I ran all these thoughts past Cygnus before I sat down to write, and his advice on what my actual ‘message’ should be made the most sense. “If you see somebody in a hole, you don’t have to jump in there with them.” He said. “We should acknowledge what’s happened and we should pay what ever we can afford to make it better. Beyond that, everything else you worry about won’t do anything to help them. Just be grateful for what you’ve got and be glad it’s not happened to you. You don’t need to feel guilty just because you didn’t lose everything this week.”

Amen to that.

In closing, I’ll leave those of you who are still reading with this little story.

I was on a coach heading down to Newbury to see my children earlier in the week. The traffic was terrible and the streets were clogged with shoppers. Our coach was delayed by seventy minutes which meant I had missed my connection. Everyone on board was livid, but as we eventually pulled in to Birmingham Coach Station, the woman next to me said, “It puts all this in perspective when you see the message my sister sent me last night.” She handed me her mobile phone, which had the word “HELP” written on its screen.

“She’s staying in Thailand for Christmas. I got that from her at two in the morning and I haven’t heard from her since.”


Written on 1st January, using statistics dated 31st December.

Statistics quoted for this entry can be found at The Seattle Times, Washington Times, Al Jazeerah and BBC News

Tsunami Relief - How you can help

Here's a useful link.