Danish telly eventually offers interesting stuff. Today it was the tale of Hardy Amies of whom it has often been said. And it’s true. But did you know he was an SOE hitman in WWII? OK, you did. But did you know I worked with him on his interior decor range in the 70s? No, you didn’t.
He was an ultra polite, rather uptight man who seemed, if anything, not superior but guarded, for all his talent. With a fascinating cv – see wiki.
Nice to meet you, Frau ohne Eigenschaften.
Your chosen alias, for some obscure reason, puts me in mind of La belle dame sans merci – by Kelly or Sheets, or one of that ilk, but no matter, it’s good to have you here. Please let me know if you would like to have author privileges and I’ll do the necessary.
By the way, pigeon doesn’t have a “d”; it used to, but not for many years now.
Have fun !!
I don’t know whether Scotland’s First Minister is proposing to visit the Davis Cup match in Glasgow this weekend. If she does she may be horrified to see the large number of spectators wearing “Back the Brits” Tshirts as well as all the Union flags, the Union face masks and red, white and blue pompoms. There are a few Scottish flags, but the support is overwhelmingly British. These are presumably some of the people who voted the ‘wrong way’ in the referendum. There are even two guys in hideous Union Jack suits.
(Bearsy and Boadicea, I did feel sorry for little Kokkinakis. At the end of the second set I felt somone ought to have taken the poor wee soul away and given him a ‘jeely piece’ or other treat. He did recover a bit in the third set, but I’m not convinced he’s capable of what his loud-mouthed friend suggested.)
The Germans, instead of “A bird in the hand is worth two in the bush” say:-
“besser ein Spatz in der Hand als eine Taube auf dem Dach”
Well, when I got up this morning we had a bloody Taube on the floor in the hallway.
Our lovely gentle little moggy, which has only one way into the house at night and requires a five feet jump onto the window ledge before she can come into a hole in the mosquito net just big enough to squeeze through, managed to leap up with a half dead pigeon in her mouth. Hut ab!!!
![DSC_0001[1]](https://charioteers.org/wp-content/uploads/2015/09/dsc_00011.jpg)
In webspeak, that is. Old Backside and I, his ever-controlling head prefect, are conning you all into buying our ginormous pile of ordure; leading you up the proverbial garden path, as it were; painting a portrait which might not be a reflection of reality.
I recall that some years ago I appeared at the Big House purporting to be a young ballet dancer learning flamenco in Iberia; family in Surrey, etc., etc. and quite a few correspondents chose to befriend me. It was frighteningly simple to become a persona. When I owned up, some were less than complimentary; others disappointed.
Here on the chariot we are so few that it’s had to imagine any of is a simulacrum, to use an old word. But maybe we have the odd catfish lurking in the shadows? I wonder.
We accept the media cliches. Destitute families with young children, exhausted and hungry from the gruelling trek from war-stricken places, arriving in their hundreds every day at the ferry port less than 15 miles from here. They are grateful for help from local people who will drive them up to Sweden or they will stay and wait for asylum here.
Of course it’s true. But it’s only part of the story.
A less publicised component is the young men who accompany them. They are not distraught or at their wit’s end. In fact they are confident, even demanding. They know their rights. They show no gratitude or sense of relief. They have their iphones, checking the latest international news and show disdain for mere border cops trying to cope with the human tsunami.
Being a refugee is no longer demeaning; no longer just for the dispossessed. It is a life-style choice for many. Should we be concerned?
A friend of mine has just pointed out that, after the Labour leadership elections, the party is now led by Tom and Jerry. That seems appropriate, somehow! 🙂
I dislike all modern politicians intensely, as you may have gathered!!
Last week it was a politician being rebuked for comparing disabled with ‘normal’ folk for the purposes of employment. This week Snow White is making an appearance on stage but friends have to take the place of dwarves.
Is the norm – in any social context – no longer a suitable topic for comment? Are we not allowed to refer to any less usual combination of attributes except by avoiding mention of the usual?
The trouble is that a significant number of common English adjectives is now outlawed: blind, deaf, crippled, etc., unless euphemisms replace them. Which ironically takes us back to the reign of Victoria, when so many conditions were unspeakable.
I am not proposing offensive bluntness. Just a proper understanding that censorship tends to have effects quite opposite to those intended. Calling a spade a coloured person doesn’t advance the cause of integration.
Inevitably, I suppose, some hacks are getting carried away by Elizabeth II’s victory in the Long Reign Stakes, by a short Head of State. (That is a horse racing analogy, btw, not a comment on her physical stature.
My hero, Socrates (or at least Plato’s characterisation of his old teacher) would have enjoyed gaz’s post about changing the world and all therein; seven steps towards happiness perhaps, the pursuit of which is every American’s dream, alongside life and liberty.
The snub-nosed Greek’s starting point for his discussion with gaz would have been his own eirôneia or ignorance, his clean sheet on which he jotted the answers to his questions, in a quest for the truth. And funnily enough, he would have passed quickly over gaz’s nos. 1, 3, 5 and 7! Why ? Because he could see the commonsense they demonstrate. (And to prove a point, he took the hemlock after disagreeing with the politically correct opinions of the sophists, whose own greed and casuistry caused his blood to boil.)
Boadicea's Chariot 
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