The police versus the courts – opposing situations?

The_police_versus_the_courts_opposing_situations

It was written ‘The law is an ass’, supposedly said by one, Mr Bumble.

And there have been a couple of stories on the Guardian website today that bear more scrutiny.

The first is this. When first reported, some weeks back it reminded me of the BNP. There he was, this Chief Constable, a person who is supposed to uphold the law as it is and follow the instructions of the courts, saying that he would not. He gave his reasons which, on the face of it seemed very reasonable.

The problem with this, though, is that he is charged, as part of his job, to ensure that the ordinary citizen upholds the law and the rulings from the courts. Surely he cannot, therefore, decide to go against the court.

But reading a little deeper, the claim is made by the man whose goods his police force seized, that the police are, in fact, out to get him. And the judges in the case criticise the Chief Constable ..

.. for attempting to smear Bates in a series of newspaper articles “all of which were directed to bring Bates into disrepute as a result of suggestions that there was salacious material which he had on computers otherwise than for purely professional purposes”

Maybe the Chief Constable should have used Nixon’s line with a little change thus:

When the Chief Constable does it, that means that it is not illegal”?

The other case was that of the blogger who wanted to remain anonymous. He wrote a blog called NightJack (no longer available). I’ve never read it but it won the Orwell award for his blog, so I’m guessing it was good.

He needed to stay anonymous so that the cases detailed on his blog would remain untraceable and, also, so that he could continue to blog truthfully about his cases and the police force (from what I have gathered).

The Judge, however, thought that he had no right to privacy regarding his identity because the act of blogging is in public.

Now, for sure, this, like most other blogs is available to all who wish to read it, even those people at work (if they can find it like Pietro did). I don’t wish to be anonymous, particularly, although I have no wish to be absolutely open either, if you see what I mean BUT, if I were writing a blog about work and, say, there was some aspect of my daily work that I felt the public should be made aware of that, maybe, my workplace would not be in total agreement to, then I probably would prefer anonymity. In fact, it might be crucial.

And, in this case I think it was crucial as now, as a result of him being ‘outed’, the blog has been deleted. What a great shame.

But it does beg the question – if a blogger has no right to anonymity, then, surely, a journalists sources have no right to anonymity since, through the journalist, they have allowed their comments to be made public? And, since it was a journalist who ‘outed’ the policeman, I wonder how he would feel if all his sources were to be made public? Surely, then, it would be harder to get their scoops? And that must be bad, don’t you think?

And, therefore, for me the writing of a blog anonymously fits neatly with the source of a journalist remaining secret. The only difference being the person who actually writes the words

It seems that, in both cases, there is one law for some and another for others, depending upon who you are and this cannot be right nor just.

Not really missing the BBC; It must be summer; Looking forward to the weekend (almost)!

Not_really_missing_the_BBC_It_must_be_summer_Looking_forward_to_the_weekend_almost

Further to my post, I’m pleased to say that weaning off the BBC is a little easier than I would have thought. I always did enjoy the Guardian and now that I’ve had the chance to explore the website a little more, I am decidedly liking it.

I also like being able to comment on pieces, unlike the BBC which just had the “Have Your Say” which, quite frankly, was not really very good.

Just like in the UK, people here complain about the weather – often. At the moment we are getting above 30 degrees in the afternoon and they are complaining that it is too hot and too humid. Certainly, as we are in a city, the humidity is worse (but nowhere near as bad as in the UK) but really, it’s not so bad.

Well, at least, there’s one person in Milan who is thoroughly enjoying this hot weather!

And, I have to ‘fess up. I don’t like travelling for work any more (or, really, travelling at all); I don’t like Paris; I don’t like working weekends and I don’t like shows (even less if I am working the stand). But….. I am almost looking forward to this weekend when I shall be in Paris.

Don’t know why, really. Possibly because I will be able to have some really good food? Or a nice bottle of wine? Or get some of the cheese (Boursault – and I shall have to get some for V who is looking after the boys) that I really like? Or, the chance that I will be able to do some reading during the boring bits (which is likely to be most of it, I think).

On the plus side, I go to the airport directly from home (about 10 minutes by taxi) and from the airport, directly to the hotel. So I only have to put up with the ‘show’ for two days. Then Monday is an all-day job driving back. There will have to be frequent stops for cigarettes, for certain, as I shall be with a colleague.

But, still I’m not quite sure why I am almost looking forward to it. Very strange.

Is this goodbye to the BBC?

Is_this_goodbye_to_the_BBC

The BBC have changed the way their website works. It changed during the day on Thursday or Friday of last week. They changed it for me!

OK, to be truthful, they changed it for the likes of me – people who are abroad and access the BBC website.

The problem would seem to be something to do with advertising. See, us pesky ex-pats have this annoying habit of choosing the UK rather than the International version. This means they had their work cut out having to have two versions of the UK site – one without ads (for the people living in the UK) and one for us foreign-living folks which included slightly-annoying, irrelevant advertisements.

They did give that as a reason but also that, apparently, we found it confusing!!!!

I don’t think so. In fact, I know that this was not so. For me it was clear. I wanted UK news. If there was anything that happened in the world that was really important, it would be on the front page anyway.

The current news appeared on the ticker at the top of the page. I looked at the main page, then England and then Wales. Finally I would look at the Europe section.

Very rarely would I look at Africa, the Americas or Asia.

I don’t really trust the BBC for International news and so, now, having been given no option but to have the International version I have decided to leave.

Shame, really. But now I would rather have Google News set to the UK and the Guardian website to pick up on the other stuff.

I know it will take me a while to wean myself from the BBC but the International version that I now have to have is so annoying that I don’t think it will take long.

So, this may be goodbye to the BBC after all!

Friends come round for dinner

Friends_come_round_for_dinner

Now, here’s a thing. When I first met V, he could cook Spaghetti Bolognese and that was all. Over the years he became quite proficient at cooking and we entertained quite a lot. I would always do the sweet whilst he would do most of the other things.

However, now that V is no longer there, I am back to doing my own thing.

Whilst in the UK, I bought quite a few pieces of Stilton and Cheddar. Also, from Londis in Hay-on-Wye, the best smoked bacon I have ever tasted. They cut it and vacuum pack it on the premises so it’s not like supermarket bacon which shrivels as the water content vaporises but it stays almost the same size and is really very tasty.

So, as I am determined to demonstrate to Italians that the food from the UK is not like they think, I had promised A that I would do dinner, mainly so that he could try the Stilton (with Port, of course).

Friday night was a night out with colleagues at an agriturismo called Ai Boschi in a small village called Origgio, not far from Milan. The nice thing about agriturismos is that they grow a lot of their food on the premises. I suppose they are an extension to the British ‘Farm Shop’. Agriturismos will have a restaurant and, quite often, rooms. Unfortunately, they are not all great. This one was, well, mediocre.

It meant that I did not get home until about 2 a.m. I had already said to A that dinner would be Saturday or Sunday depending on how things went (cleaning the house, etc.). As it was, I actually got up about 11.30 which was very late for me. And put me all behind.

However, I made the supreme effort to clean the house and, finally, at about 7 p.m. went shopping. I managed to make it in time to get the Port from the little off-licence near Corso Buenos Aires so called A to say we were on for the dinner.

To start, I had a baked pasta dish, given to me by G, our cook at work. Then I made a warm bacon and chicken salad – the bacon from Londis and the salad including salad cream which I had also picked up in the UK. Finally, cheese, British cheese biscuits, apples and port.

A made some big thing about me being able to cook and it made me think that V did most of it after all. A didn’t know I could cook whereas, in reality, it was me who taught V how to cook.

The meal was a great success. F really loved the bacon and the Stilton, which made me very happy. My first dinner in the flat!

Sunday I went for brunch at A&F’s. M, A’s friend was there too. As he pointed out, it was more like a wedding breakfast! Many courses and it lasted for hours.

And, the weather over the weekend was great so a good weekend all round.

A Security Issue

A_Security_Issue

How well can we rely on the security staff at Europe’s airports to do their jobs? Can they really protect us from a terrorist who is determined to blow up a plane? Are they, or the machinery they operate, up to the job?

My experiences show otherwise. The number of times I have been checked through British Airports and then European ones, each having a different set of rules and each finding different things to concern themselves with, make me wonder what this security thing is all about.

Take my latest trip.

From Malpensa through Brussels to Birmingham. Fairly straightforward, you might think. However, add in the fact that, in order to smoke, I go through security more than once at most airports. I get to learn what they want and this makes it quicker (for them and me) – however, something is most definitely wrong.

I am taking coffee in my hand luggage. This is finely ground coffee. It’s special Italian coffee and is for Best Mate.

First there is Malpensa. In the tray I put my bag. In another tray I put my coat and my mobile phone. My coat contains my cigarettes and a lighter. I keep all my coins and my other lighter. Stupidly, I have worn my boots which have a large chunk of metal round the heel. The security guard wants these on the conveyor belt which is, kind of, fair enough.

I slip through the gate with no beep. I collect all my things and on we go to the aircraft.

We arrive in Belgium – Brussels to be exact. I leave the airport (as if I am going to Brussels) so that I may go outside to have a cigarette.

Of course, I have to go back through security. Here they want all shoes off – metal or no.

I put my bag in a tray. I put my coat (with mobile , cigarettes and lighter) in another tray. But wait! Here they also want loose change. I take the Euro coins from one pocket and the English coins from another and add them to the coat tray.

I step through. No beep.

However, here, they decide that my bag requires checking. Nothing has been added or taken away since Malpensa (except the Milan-Brussels boarding card).

They go through the bag. They are interested in the tobacco and the coffee but, of course, everything has to come out. Nothing is found that is bad (I am not a terrorist).

I pack up and walk on.

After coffee and a sandwich, I really need another cigarette. Once again I leave the airport to stand outside the arrivals and have my couple of cigarettes.

I go back through security. This is the same security gate that I went through before. Exactly the same gate. There were a few different staff.

I placed my bag in one tray; my coat (with phone, cigarettes, lighter, Euro coins and British coins) in another and my boots in a third.

Then he asked if I had anything else in my pockets. I said my wallet (credit cards and cash) and he wanted them too.

So, there I was, going through the same gate as I had done an hour before. Personally, the only differences between last time and this were:

Minus: Credit Card Wallet

Plus: One glass of beer (inside me, of course); One chicken, bacon and lettuce sandwich (again inside me); A couple of cigarettes worth of extra tar/nicotine/whatever; Dust or anything that may have been floating in the air and is too small to see.

It beeped.

So then I had to be searched as did my bag.

The guy actually said that he had seen me go through before.

My conclusion to this was that either:

  1. The machine beeps every fifth or tenth person through, whatever.
  2. Someone in the team had a remote control switch that made it beep (and that is for another post).

Either way, it simply WAS NOT POSSIBLE for the machine to detect beer, chicken, bacon, lettuce, tar or nicotine in my body. And I honestly assure you there was nothing else that was additional on my person.

Speaking to someone today who knows someone in the Civil Aviation Authority in the country they come from (not Italy or the UK) he said that his friend had advised that, in fact, these security checks were a waste of time, money and energy but that ‘it makes the passengers feel safer’.

Well, not me it doesn’t. It makes me feel angry as I now know that the security gate in Brussels (the one on the left as you go through to the UK flights) doesn’t work properly. And, if it doesn’t work properly, is it the only one? I suspect not.

And then there was the UK on the way back. Going through Birmingham security:

Female Security Person: Do you have a belt, sir?
Me: No.
FSP: Can you take your sandals off please sir?
Me: Why – that guy has just gone through with sandals?
FSP: Exactly sir, and it set the alarm off.

I went through sans sandals.

Whilst waiting for my stuff to come through, the next five people were allowed through with their sandals on!

I’m sorry but you are just being random. And random doesn’t make me feel safe. Random means lucky not secure. Random means you are there to annoy me rather than make me feel good. All this security rubbish has to stop.

So, Brussels security does not make me feel safe and Birmingham security are too random for me to feel safe.

At least with Italian security you know where you stand – I.e. they are fairly relaxed about it – but, weirdly, it makes me feel safer as, instead of concentrating on rubbish, they probably have time to truly observe the people going through and can spot someone who might be acting in a suspect manner.

Alan Bennett and other things

I’ve only seen a couple of his plays on television, well, at least, some of his monologues. But D came over to see me and after lunch we went down to the Festival to see what was on.

After seeing Chris Patten, we went to see Alan Bennett.

He was very funny, reading some excerpts from his diary (which, I guess, is his latest publication). It’s a thing that real writers have, that I, as a blog writer, don’t. The ability to see the mudane and ordinary and, somehow make them interesting or, even, humourous. I wish…..

The weather remains warm and sunny. The new pair of sandals I bought in Goldworthy’s on Friday – to replace my favourite pair that I bought from there about 6 years ago and, eventually, this year became too difficult to wear, the insoles having become almost completely detached from the soles, the stitching being so undone in places as to mean I had to be careful putting them on in case the thread became tied up with my toes and now they could be safely called ‘Dino’s Sandals’ since I know how much he likes my old shoes – I am now wearing as I write this.

My feet feel a little cold but, when I get out in the sun, I hope they will feel OK. I know that by about 4 p.m. I should change and go back to shoes and socks – this is not Milan, after all – but at least I should try, I feel.

Looking out from Best Mate’s bedroom (The Smoking Room) window, I watched the booksellers laying out their stalls in the Butter Market over the lst couple of days. This morning was the turn of the Craft Fair stallholders. I wonder who buys all this stuff? And why?

I’ve been getting a newspaper every day since I got here. I like to be able to feel the paper as I read – it makes a change from the Internet – but I have decided that I really can’t be bothered to buy a Sunday paper this morning. I mean they are so large and, for me, so largely unread it is not only a waste of money but also paper.

And now, as I write this, I am doing coffee for Best Mate and I – and I hear the moka telling me it’s time to go……

Being back in Hay

It’s been three years since I was last at the Hay Fetival. It’s nice to be back and it certainly helps that the weather is good. I’ve been seeing a lot of people that I know and it’s been good to chat with them over a coffee/pimms/beer/whatever.

Everyone seems genuinely pleased to see me.

Everyone seems to know about V & I splitting so there is the usual start to the conversation proper, where they are unsure as to what to say about it, but once I explain that we’re still friends and that, although I have custody of the boys, V is looking after them whilst I am here, they are much more relaxed about it.

I’ve been to one event today and will, probably, try to go to another later this afternoon, if I can drag Best Mate down there. I’ve hardly had anything to drink – just been talking, really.

Still, if Best Mate comes down, I feel a couple of beers coming on……….

What future parliament do you want?

What_future_parliament_do_you_want

So, the Telegraph continues to hound the politicians who, whilst ‘sticking to the rules’, may not have been quite so saintly in terms of what they have claimed by way of expenses.

There are a few things here that I feel are worthy of comment.

  1. When the salaries were introduce for MPs, they were very high (compared to the average wage). Now it is not so. Therefore, like any of us, where we get the chance to be a little relaxed as to what we can claim by way of an expense account, they milked it for everything they could
    Now, what would we (you, in the UK, really) prefer? That only the people who can afford it, put themselves up to be MPs? Surely that limits democracy.

    Sure, they should have checks on the expenses that they put forward and I am not, for one moment suggesting that the MPs that have ‘made a mistake’ are not brought to book but I do feel we have to be careful as to the fall-out from this

  2. It was, indeed, a very stupid thing to have fought so hard to keep their expenses out of the public eye, for that only made people more suspicious. The seeds of doubt meant that, when eventually released, the expenses were going to be scrutinised carefully.
  3. They (the MPs) cannot expect that they will rule us (for that is, almost certainly, what they think) and demand that we are perfect if they, themselves, cannot live by the same rules. They are, after all, our representatives and make laws and rules on our behalf. They should be wary of making rules and laws to which they cannot stick.
  4. Who, in their right minds, ever thought it was the right way, to be the maker the rules of expense claims themselves. It had to, inevitably, lead to this!

To be honest they deserve this. However, as I say above, the consequences may not be exactly what we want. We should be careful not to hound them all to the point that the future MPs will either be only those that can comfortably afford it or those that are able to circumnavigate the rules. Either type do not lead to a healthy democratic parliament.

Worse still, we could end up with people like Berlusconi as PM. Surely you don’t want that, do you?

Yesterday, I have been mostly wearing sandals

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Those of you from the UK will remember the BBC comedy program The Fast Show, from which this title is taken.

And it’s true. It is now so hot (hurrah!) that, last night, for the first time this year I wore sandals to take the dogs for a walk and did so again this morning

>For those of you who don’t know, I cannot abide cold feet – and my feet feel the cold a lot. I will not wear socks with sandals and for the first forty-odd years of my life I wore sandals for about 6 days a year (and changed in the evening for socks and shoes).

It is only since coming here that I can wear sandals all day and night – and I love it.

And so, it is likely that now and for most of the time between now and mid to end September, I shall be wearing sandals.

I am exceedingly happy about that.

A luv poim wot u mus reed

A_luv_poim_wot_u_mus_reed

From time to time, to give myself a break or just because I am bored (waiting for things to happen over which I have absolutely zero influence and can do nothing to hurry along), I like to surf the web. And, when I say that, I mean blogs.

There’s something about blogs that I find fascinating (not so with Twitter or Facebook – which we can’t even get to now as it’s been blocked here, at work, and the proxies don’t hack it (it was probably blocked for overuse by one of the people in Purchasing – mentioning no names, of course)). But the Twitter and Facebook things are for another time and another post.

Blogging, however, takes some time and some thought (although you may not think so reading some of my posts, I grant you)

And I do like to see the other blogs to which some of my favourite blogs link to and today it was Cecilieaux .

From there, one of the blogs had this entry with, if the background to the finding of the poem is true, the most delightful poem that you just have to read. If the background (and I don’t know this blogger at all) is not true then although well done, it wouldn’t have the same feel to it for me.

Therefore, I am wishing it were true.  Anyway, enjoy!

Update: April 2015.

Since this was one of the most beautiful things I ever found and, given that many things ‘disappear’ and that the blogger seems to have stopped writing around 2013 (so the blog may disappear at some time), I do hope I don’t cause offence but I repeat the entry here, in hard copy, so that I will always have it.

Love Poem by Eight-Year Old

(A note found on the playground
pinned by wind against the chain-link fence)

From: Daniel A.
To: Meesha

In case you guest
I love you it is a present
to see you.
When I dreem.
I dreem you Not gold
not a cristal pond not a bird
singing evry song
you ever herd jus you
Only. None else

Because I love you
and love to say your name
I saw you
and remember this
Thanks you for a dreem

Who? can take
Your plase