Out of their minds - on delusion

Professor David Nutt, the Government's chief drug adviser, was sacked yesterday after claiming ecstasy and LSD were less dangerous than alcohol. Prof. Nutt, chairman of the Advisory Council on the Misuse of Drugs,  attacked what he called the "artificial" separation of alcohol and tobacco from other, illegal, drugs.
He accused former home secretary Jacqui Smith, who reclassified cannabis, of "distorting and devaluing" scientific research. Prof Nutt said smoking cannabis created only a "relatively small risk" of psychotic illness. All drugs, including alcohol and tobacco, should be ranked by a "harm" index, he said, with alcohol coming fifth behind cocaine, heroin, barbiturates, and methadone.

"Tobacco should rank ninth, ahead of cannabis, LSD and ecstasy", he said and he  repeated his claim that the risks of taking ecstasy are no worse than riding a horse.
Ms Smith's decision to reclassify cannabis as a "precautionary step" sent mixed messages and undermined public faith in Government science, he said.
He added: "I think we have to accept young people like to experiment - with drugs and other potentially harmful activities - and what we should be doing in all of this is to protect them from harm at this stage of their lives. We therefore have to provide more accurate and credible information. If you think that scaring kids will stop them using, you are probably wrong."

The Government, of course, fearful of the headlines which the alcoholic correspondents of the tabloids would devise during their cocaine-sniffing seminars, immediately sacked their adviser for telling the truth.

We need to be very clear about this. Professor Nutt was sacked for telling the truth about drugs and blowing out of the water the facile mythologies about drugs and  children and experimentation. Sadly, despite Cameron having taken drugs himself in his younger days, it's doubtful if anything would change under a Tory government, as their pomposity and self-righteousness exceeds even that of the Government's.
We live in a society in which our elected representatives operate in secrecy, fiddle their expenses, obscure the truth, defy logic, react to newspaper headlines instead of logic and reason and actually fail to see why they should reform themselves or even appreciate how disillusioned the public is becoming.  From local councils up to Westminster the story's the same: secrecy, stupidity and selfishness  on a massive scale, yet we seem to accept it.  Perhaps we deserve the rulers we get.

Bridge over troubled mortar

The saga of Maesdu bridge is set to run and run.  The excellent Jason Weyman, on his blog, reveals

"The agreed price of the winning tender (Dawnus Construction Ltd) is actually £2.3 Million.

Now I know the local authority is coming under close scrutiny on this and I know this information will add fuel to the arguments. But this information is important and will have been announced at some point. The fact it came out on Tuesday evening, means that it is public information and I know at least 1 of the businesses would have passed this information further afield. I know this will give officers more grief but it is something that needs to be said, and now I know the information is in the public domain then I have to post on it.

So the projected overspend is projected to be £738k, This has to be found from within the Capital Expenditure budget. As you can imagine this was one of a few quotes and the adjudication was split between cost and quality of the tender. So you can imagine what the values of other tenders would have been.

There are several interesting aspects to this saga, but one which seems extremely odd is the sentence in Cllr Weyman's aricle which reads thus:

As you can imagine this was one of a few quotes and the adjudication was split between cost and quality of the tender, so you can imagine what the values of other tenders would have been.

But this seems rather odd.  When bids are invited, they are done so in full cognisance of the specifications of the building or project. Thus, the company bidding would have known what they were required to do.  It would, therefore, have been appropriate to select the lowest tender based on the builder being aware of the requirements.

It's bridge.  It has to carry traffic and it has to last for many years. It shouldn't fall down. They're not being invited to tender for the  construction of a Hadron collider, or a Fusion power plant.  It's a bridge.  We've been building the damn things for about 10 000 years.  What's the problem?"

Now we know the council officers will say there are all sorts of things which need to be taken into account, but that doesn't really make any sense. Essentially, specs are drawn up, tenders invited on those specs, and the lowest bids accepted.  Unless, of course, there's something we don't know.

Conwy CCBC

Cllr John Oddy has posted this on his blog:

"Once again the Council have shown their contempt for the people in Colwyn Bay. I informed you, the readers, of CCBC intentions to secretly buy properties in Colwyn Bay, namely the old indoor market and a property in Douglas Road; what I didn’t know at the time was that an offered had already been made by a local buyer (I will not print his name as I feel that would be unfair) on the house in Douglas Road, his offer of £60,000 had been accepted by the vendor and the sale was proceeding. The estate agents were Stirlings of Colwyn Bay but, somehow, CCBC must have got to hear of the offer because at the Cabinet meeting the reason for a Schedule 12 was.... “NONE DISCLOSURE- Disclosure could prejudice the negotiations between the Council and the Owners and potentially delay the acquisition of the properties for which there is a tight timetable for purchase.” NOTE: tight timetable”

Gareth Peters, CCBC Principal Property Services approached the buyer and offered him £1,000 as a “Consultation fee” to pull out of the deal, as the buyer pointed out, his expenses and solicitor’s fees came to considerably more than that and to accept that would leave him out of pocket. CCBC then put in an offer of £70,000 thereby gazumping the local buyer who immediately upped his offer. This resulted in the vendor asking for sealed bids, the local buyer took his bid into the solicitor’s office where it was immediately opened, why? The information inside was commercially sensitive as the amount of the offer could be passed-on to interested parties and thereby negating the reason for a sealed bid.

From day one I have said this entire issue stinks, it is full of secrecy, lies and deceit now, if I am correct in my assumptions, a breach of the Council’s own Code of Conduct. It appears there is no depth to which the Council will not stoop to push through their inward looking proposals in using the Regeneration Grant, all to their own ends.

I am in receipt of all the documentation that backs-up my allegations and I have forwarded copies to the Chairman of the Council demanding a full explanation into the, at least morally corrupt, conduct of the Council and its Officers. The least the Council can do is compensate the local buyer or pull-out of the deal and allow him to continue with his original purchase."

Let's see what happens...

Getting the bird

Yesterday morning, we were sitting in the dining room, when my wife pointed out through our South-facing window.  At a guess, I'd say a flock of more than 100 000 birds flew across the hill, West to East.  The flock was so large, it extended as far as we could see  - which is about half a mile - and flew past for more than 40 seconds.  As the end of the flight neared, a kite dived on to it and seemed to capture a straggler.  It was, however, one of the most astonishing sights we've ever seen;  the sheer number of birds was simply breathtaking - more like a swarm than than a flock.

This sort of behaviour is associated with migratory birds., but also the waders - in particular Knot.  What was amazing, however, was the sheer scale of the flypast. That so many birds, wheeling and turning in perfect unison, could be on wing simultaneously proved quite simply breathtaking to behold.

Today, we witnessed yet more of Nature's awesome sights, as a double rainbow appeared, traversing the valley along its East side. It faded after a few moments, but in that instance we saw what makes living in the area - with all its issues and concerns - truly worthwhile.  Question Time, Conwy Council and Post strikes seem remarkably unimportant when the sorts of sights which only nature can provide are witnessed in such abundance.  And they're all in High def :-))

So sad.

The fatality that occurred on Thursday morning on the A55 was extremely sad, and naturally, everyone wishes the family concerned their best.  What was worrying, however, was the way in which the Police reacted to the incident and the way in which it failed to be reported by almost anyone.

The police had vast amounts of time to organise the traffic flows, yet managed to stall traffic completely for almost three hours.  Let's look at what happened.

The accident occurred in the early hours. It was a fatac, so the Police had to close the A55.  This meant that in the rush hour - 8 - 9 am - vast numbers of vehicles would find themselves being routed off the A55 at two points:  Black Cat and Conwy.  If we look for a moment at the Black Cat situation, we're tempted to ask why on earth the police didn't institute some kind of traffic control. The traffic pouring off the A55 onto the roundabout effectively closed the roundabout to traffic coming from Glan Conwy - a bottleneck at the best of times. Did it not occur to anyone in the Police that the presence of a bobby directing traffic, so every one had a fair chance of moving, would have been a good idea? Instead, a five mile long tailback formed though Glan Conwy, jamming the roads solid and increasing driver consternation to record levels. All it needed to alleviate an incredibility confused situation was a couple of bobbies directing traffic - alternately holding the A55 crowd up and allowing the Glan Conwy traffic to move forward.

If there had been an emergency requiring an ambulance at that time, heaven knows what would have happened.

Possibly the more dispiriting issue, however, was the utter lack of any mention of such a catastrophic event on the TV.  Local radio mentioned it, but the BBC and ITV didn't even feature it in their regional news and ITV didn't even think it worthy of a mention on their regional teletext. Seems the North - South divide is alive and well.

Salad days

Ambling along Mostyn Street this morning was extremely pleasant.  The sun was doing its best to crack the flags not already broken, the town was moderately busy, the shops starting to sport their Christmas allure and Trinity was open.  In fact, it opened last week, because one of the parishioners had asked if her late husband's funeral could take place there.

Trinity's had a bad time of it over the summer;  prolonged roof works, poor weather and rain seeping in through the covers fixed during the work have meant that the normally proud edifice has stood somewhat forlorn over what ought to have been a busy season. But there's light at the end of a dismal tunnel, now.

Churches are interesting things. They're places where the majority visit only at Christmas or Easter, Weddings or funerals and for the remainder of the year they bear mute testimony to the avarice of man.  But money has become a major issue in recent times, with churches generally having to devise more and cunning ways to raise money. simply to pay for the ongoing and not insubstantial costs of running themselves.  Many are now turning to pay car parks, covenanting, coffee mornings, bring and buy sales, Christmas fayres and anything else they can think of to bring in the money. Of course, the question that is then asked is whether we need huge buildings such as Trinity's at all. But Trinity has visitors throughout the day and all through the year - some who walk around, some who sit quietly and some who simply admire the construction of a fine building. But whatever their motives, there's little doubt that the sheer size, design and feel of a building like Trinity is an asset to Llandudno - or any town.  And if folk feel a little better for sitting quietly inside then perhaps the 21st Century church is still going strong.

Deck the halls

Yesterday, Chris wrote

You are wrong on your sweeping analysis of the public sector worker, though, and are sadly falling into this "front line good - back office bad!" socio/economic illiteracy that is so popular just now with the politicians.

A good public servant is there to do the public will, as set out by their bosses, who get it from THEIR bosses,(the politicians)- and THEIR bosses - us!

 and, to be fair, makes a sound point.  There is a marked tendency for opposition politicians to define management - particularly in the health service - as largely superfluous to the well-being of the institution. But Chris' shrewd observation did set the mind thinking: was the piece yesterday justified in its commentary and - as a further adjunct - is management deserving of the critique it receives?

It used to be said that those who can, do and those who can't, teach. That simplistic but oft quoted saying actually does a massive disservice to committed and genuine teachers, but - as with all such aphorisms - there's often a germ of truth lurking beneath the surface.  In the case of teachers, good salaries, apparently long holidays and easy entrance to the Mathematics and Sciences side of things are powerful incentives while, in a time of recession, teaching offers steady employment, a reasonable career ladder and a degree of respect within the community. But the public has a remarkably selective capacity for these things.  If we were to apply the saying to, say - clairvoyants, spiritualists or Derren Brown, then many would be incensed, while books proclaiming 'How to make  a million - I did!' simply fly off the shelves.

But the pressure on education and the NHS, albeit politically imposed through varying degrees of astonishing ignorance, demands a management structure be in place, partly to deal with the horrendous amounts of paperwork which now pervade all the public services.

The NHS is one area where management is frequently vilified as unnecessary, incompetent or a sterling combination of both. Which brings us to the second part of Chris' comment:

A good public servant is there to do the public will, as set out by their bosses, who get it from THEIR bosses,(the politicians)- and THEIR bosses - us!

and it's probably there where we encounter the biggest issues of the day. It is, after all, we who demand change, we who elect MPs and Councillors, we who blame them when things don't go according to plan and we who choose the Government. So it's probably worth considering exactly how the political will is directed towards change.

And this is the problem.  All too often the politician reacts to perceived pressure from without;  the Tabloids, in effect, set the agenda. Unfortunately, once we've elected them, there's little we can do to influence them, and thus the Tabloids get free rein to pick up individual stories that can so often end up becoming policy.

But there may be light on the horizon. Our democratic system saw its genesis at a time when the journey from Edinburgh to London took five days, three horses and a pair of saddles.  Things have never changed as fast as they have in the past ten years. The emergence of 'instant' messaging, twittering, forums, blogs, facebook and the mobile 'phone mean that our elected representatives have never been so accessible, nor their actions so open to comment and dissection. In fact, it's now technologically quite feasible to implement a real democracy - one in which every voter can vote on every issue. But somehow, it's hard to see any politician voting through a measure which might actually make them less powerful.  But all these innovations are steadily combining to erode the power of the printed media, supplant the visual media and provide platforms for the ordinary voter to have their say.  Perhaps it won't be too long before we can really bring about change.

I don't believe it!

If you're unfortunate enought to live in Gwynedd, you'll enjoy paying your monthly council tax bill; even more, now you know that the head of education in Gwynedd is in line for a near 11% pay rise – that’s nearly £7,000 a year of public cash.  Dewi Jones is among eight senior managers in line for salary hikes of between 5.25% and 10.78% – in total costing the taxpayer an extra £41,000 a year. The Gwynedd CE argues that - in effect - they had to raise his salary as part of the final stage of the UK-wide equal pay review. But we've heard all this before. In fact, the egregious Thatcher once argued that 'we cannot go on paying ourselves more than we're earning', something which she singularly failed to follow in her own case, of course, as MPs continued to be paid, through both direct salaries and the iniquitous expenses system, which she originated, far more than their actual worth.

The even more egregious Tebbit went on to argue that people should only be paid according to market demand saying, in effect, that if a job attracted a large number of applicants, then the lowest salary commensurate with hiring the best candidate should be paid.

The UK inflation rate currently stands at about 1.6%, but that figure masks the true cost of a rural existence.  Many in North Wales, for instance, are still reliant on LPG for their heating, a product which has seen staggering price rises in the past few years, and the distances many have to travel has meant further price rises through the variances in the volatile oil markets.  None of this leaves council tax payers in Gwynedd or Conwy particularly happy when they see these sorts of ludicrous salary rises being handed out, despite the squealing protestations of those who stand to benefit handsomely.  What we need is a revolution in the way some people are paid.

Let's start with the public sector. Now, teachers are paid well. Very well, really. So, do they earn their money? In any day, the average teacher has to be at work half an hour before the day officially starts for the kids, spend their day dealing with the awkward, the truculent, the bellicose and the unreasonable, and then after their senior management meetings, deal with the kids. Frankly, anyone who has the sheer stamina to stand in front of thirty juvenile mammals and excite, control, inspire and regulate them, yet retain their composure deserves every penny.  But as they start to climb the career ladder, teachers escape the classroom and spend more time on administration.  The really resourceful ones (or the plain dreadful) contrive to escape altogether and become advisers or inspectors.

Council officers have no such stresses. They don't have to face the kids every day, have pleasant offices in which to work on their laptops, don't even have to worry about distractions such as reading local blogs and when one of their posts becomes vacant, there's a flood of applicants, usually from extremely well qualified people. Perhaps it's time to re-word some advertisements.  Starting salaries could be reduced, for a start.  Why should even senior managers automatically be paid a seriously large sum without first having to prove themselves? Previous employment references should largely be disregarded, as it's not unknown for authorities to try to rid themselves of inadequate performers through over enthusiastic references. Secondly, salaries should be tied to inherent value, that value being determined by annual referendum.  For instance, each post holder would have to publish a list of that they had actually achieved each year, and the tax payers would be able to vote on what salary that warranted. Locally, we would be able to see exactly how Bethan Jones had justified her pay rise, or what significant and cost-saving improvements Byron had wrought.

Will that ever happen?  Probably not, but the facts are that the general public and tax payers have almost no idea what the officers do and - most importantly - how they earn their often inflated salaries.   Perhaps it's time they did.

Things ain't what they used to be

It's getting darker.  Well, only in the evenings, you understand, but it is getting darker.  Oh, and in the mornings. In fact, the days are getting shorter.  There was a time when the advent of the darker nights was welcome - a harbinger, if you like, of all things warm and cosy when we all got tucked up by the fire, ate hot buttered slices of toast and listened to the weather doing its bleakest behind thickly curtained windows, while the fire crackled merrily in the grate and our thoughts turned to Christmas.  In those days, we didn't have concerns about real fires being major health hazards, whether the hour should go forward or back, or - indeed - whether we should even celebrate Christmas.  We just accepted the fact that December meant cold nights, short days, warm fires, lots of carols and presents, eventually, round a real tree, sometimes - even now, amazingly - with real candles. Children waited with breathless and impatient anticipation for the great day and adults loved every minute of the build up, with predictable carol services on the radio and telly, festive sights in the shops and a wonderful feeling of nascent catharsis.

The first Santa in Llandudno was sighted last Thursday which, even by the standards of a confirmed festivophile was a tad early, if not downright unseasonal. There's an order to Autumn.  It goes Halloween, bonfire night, Christmas and it's downright unseemly to rush these things.  We need time to make the most of each event, like little beacons in a darkening journey, and we should take things slowly.

As a child, autumn was the most magical of times. Back to school signalled the imminent arrival of Halloween some weeks later, half term and then the wonders of bonfire night, the demise of which led beautifully into Christmas.  A seven week course of carol singing, nativity rehearsals and parties, terminating in Christmas Day - the only time of the year the fire was lit in the front room.  Of course, despite the Dickensian perception, snow was usually absent, but that was probably because they moved Christmas back three weeks in the 17th century. But snow or not, it was a great time.  In a society which promotes instant gratification, it's perhaps best to take it slowly.

Grassed up

The news today that Bo Xing He, 31, was jailed for nine years after he admitted running an "absolutely enormous" operation involving the the largest-ever cannabis factory in the UK at industrial premises in Bangor, Colwyn Bay, Conwy and Wrexham, does make you wonder a little.  Apparently, Mr He was living at a rented six-bedroom house in Gannock Park, Deganwy, where police found £130,000 and an S-type Jaguar. Well, at least he (or He) had taste. Curiously, the single most irritating factor for the prosecution appeared to be that they were sending the proceeds back to China.

But cannabis factories ('farms' seems a more apt description) flourish because they're illegal and there's a demand. The US knows a lot about this, having attempted - and failed - to outlaw the sale of alcohol between 1919 and 1933.  And the history of what was later termed 'The Noble Experiment' is both fascinating and informative.

As with all such movements that seek to tell people what is good for them, the prohibition  or abstinence movement was largely religion-based and started by the churches, mostly Methodists. The influence of the movement, spearheaded by the Women's Christian temperance union, which evolved into the Anti-saloon league, a name reminiscent of a band of super heroes fighting to save the planet, increased rapidly with - oddly and rather ironically - the Roman Catholic church being the only religious body to condemn the government for defining morality. Interestingly, the medical fraternity at the time agued against the proposals, as they used beer widely as a medicinal curative.

Of course, the experiment failed spectacularly, especially as the sale and manufacture of alcohol was still legal in the surrounding countries, and Canada and Mexico were making small fortunes from their illegal exports.  But what made the US (and what makes our Government) believe that some reality-altering drugs ought never to be legal?

In the case of alcohol, it appears to have been drunkenness.  Alcohol acts on the brain to release inhibition, so people become unaware of their behaviour on others, and generally become more like themselves, only louder.  Of course, since we're all essentially selfish at the core, that's not always a pretty sight and drunks often resort to violence, throwing punches and kicking with remarkable speed and dexterity, despite the effects that alcohol is supposed to have on reaction time.  But in moderation, alcohol aids the process of digestion, lowers blood pressure and imbues the drinker with a feeling of well-being.

Cannabis works in a different way, although the initial effects are similar.  The initial euphoria eventually yields to a more philosophical mode, which is where a minority of users can experience feelings of anxiety and - in some cases  - depression.  However, all reality-altering drugs have side effects, as do all drugs, anyway.  One argument for continuing to retain the status of cannabis as illegal is that some of the side effects can provoke psychotic episodes, although exactly the same is true of alcohol.

The problem our elected representatives fail to see, however, is that its illegal status is no impediment whatsoever to anyone who wants to partake, but the quality control, taxation and packaging associated with it are all being diverted to criminals. In effect, by continuing to make cannabis illegal, the government is subsidising the lifestyle they seek to emulate.

What's the answer?  Drunkenness is a major factor in the current hot topic - anti-social behaviour - and illegal drug production probably the major factor behind theft and robbery, both of which could be alleviated by the legalisation and subsequent control of drugs and the increase in taxation on alcohol.  But simply banning is never going to be the answer and government telling people what is good for them has no place in a modern society.

Cats and Dogs...

A quick glance at the local news section of the Daily Post this morning reveals that society still has its fair share of strange happenings, and often stranger people where animals are concerned.

In the lead item, a dog owner won £450 compensation from Royal Mail after his pet pooch chewed a parcel. The Post says 'Coin and banknotes dealer Bruce Goulborn’s pet spaniel Benny munched through £800 worth of historic fivers after a bungling postman got a neighbour to sign for a special delivery. Mr Goulborn, who should have signed for the precious package, wasn’t in, and it fell into the jaws of his dog. Yesterday a court ordered Royal Mail to pay Bruce, from Rhyl, £450 compensation as the damaged notes are now only worth £350.

Last night the numismatist, who runs Goulborn Collection Ltd from the Rhyl Coin and Stamp Centre in Sussex Street, said Benny, 11, “thought it was his birthday” when he sunk his teeth into the parcel “like a chew toy”.'

This story poses a few questions. Firstly, if this chap routinely deals with valuable post and has a dog known for eating it, then perhaps it might have been circumspect to invest in a dog guard for the mail.  That's what normal folk with mailivorous canines do, anyway.  The second issue is the Post's description of the postman as 'bungling'.  Postmen generally do a great job in often dreadful conditions, and often - in our experience - go out of their way to help their customers. Certainly, following the rules and taking it back to the depot would have been the easy way, but the postman clearly wanted to help the hapless Mr. Goulborn out by getting a neighbour to sign for the parcel.  Well, it's doubtful he'll be getting that help again, anyway.  Curiously,  Mr. Goulborn apparently had no actual proof of the transaction, which is itself rather interesting, if he runs a business dealing exclusively with coins and banknotes. Finally, it's not at all clear from the article who actually posted the item through his door. This is the third time since June he's claimed against the Royal Mail, and one has to wonder - if he finds the service so unsatisfactory - why he continues to use them. 


In a second item, a father of four has apparently suffered the loss of six cats through their being poisoned by antifreeze. Cruelty to animals is nothing new, of course, but it's interesting to learn that cats apparently "like anti-freeze because it is sweet. All it takes is a spoonful to kill them."  Never having tasted the stuff, it's difficult to comment,  but one has to wonder about the motive for such a deed.

There are few subjects like domestic pets which have such a capacity to divide opinion.  Newspapers are regularly inundated by letters complaining about 'dog mess' and 'thoughtless owners', and dog lovers can never comprehend why some people might not like dogs at all.  Cats, of course, exist in a legal limbo, being considered to be 'property', but with a 'right to roam', which can also be a serious concern for the cat-less neighbour who regularly finds their garden being fouled.  However, legal remedies can be sought, such as using the Environmental Health Departments, who have powers under  the Environmental Protection Act, 1990 in respect of nuisance or hazards (eg fouling, smell and noise) caused as a result of too many cats being kept at a single property. Of course, it then comes down to what can be considered as 'too many', but in a closely packed housing development, that can be as few as four.

Sorry about that....

Been a hectic week, which is why this is only the second article since the 11th.  So I'm sorry about that, which segues nicely into the subject of today's epistle: 'sorry' seems the hardest word.  This week a hospital apologised (and paid substantial damages) to a woman whose baby died as a consequence of their failures.  But hospitals - along with councils, Government departments, officials, big companies, small companies, schools, the Army, the Navy, the Air Force, the church, individuals, parents, children and animals all make mistakes. Which is why it seems odd that the bigger the organisation, the less willing or likely it is to apologise for them.

It's possible it has something to do with immediacy. If we bump into someone at the supermarket, our first reaction (in most peoples' case) is to apologise, whether or not we're the one at fault.  But if a supermarket prices something incorrectly, it's left to the embarrassed check out operator to do the niceties, when it ought to be the senior manager.

But it happens to us.  When we're driving, it's not really practicable  to stop and apologise when we realise that we didn't indicate at the last exit, which is why the car behind did a fair impression of a stunt driver in the latest Bond movie trying to escape the clutches of Garglesmith, or whoever the latest villain might be.  But nothing stops us waving apologetically, yet we often don't.  Of course, that applies only to those drivers who aren't entirely oblivious of their surroundings, as some seem, especially first thing in the morning.

However, the local councils are the ones that have most to do with our day to day lives, yet they either don't make any mistakes or they're the most reluctant to apologise of all.

Perhaps it's to do with the fear of litigation, perhaps it's something to do with the lack of clarity in the lines between councillors and paid officials as to exactly who is responsible for what.  Whatever the issue, it would be nice to hear councils and their officials occasionally say 'Sorry;  we got it wrong'.  Perhaps then we just might have a little more confidence in them

Bugging out

Well, we're finally getting that barbecue summer weather the Met office suggested we might get back in June.   Last couple of weeks have been very pleasant and our walk today revealed some stunning views, with crystal clear air and a total absence of flies, at least until the sun started waking them up, when they made up for lost time.

Of course, we're not really designed for heat.  Given the temperature range that exists in the Galaxy, we can only survive in a surprisingly tiny portion - about thirty or so degrees, actually, and that depends on having clothes for the lower end of the range. For most folk, 30C is about the most they can take for any length of time, although in some of the hotter regions of our planet temperatures of 50C have been recorded. At that temperature, any sort of strenuous activity becomes rather difficult, which is why life moves slowly in equatorial countries and the Spanish have a siesta.

Most of us prefer the temperature to hover around the mid-20s;  pleasantly warm without becoming oppressively hot. But constant temperatures like that bring the irritations of flies, midges, wasps and various other delights of nature to ensure that the idyllic picnic by the river's edge you'd planned for that evening becomes a running battle to eliminate the army of bugs that simply lie in wait for the unsuspecting visitor to get settled, before homing in with a precision envied by the designers of the Tomahawk missile.

Which is why autumn can seem so delightful. Wonderfully sunny days, clear, cold nights and all of that lacking the swarms of things that seem destined, if not downright anxious, to outlive the human species. It does, of course, mean having that picnic garbed in an outfit more suited to polar exploration, but that possibly beats spraying yourself with enough Deet to eliminate Mexico's fly population.

In the end, however,  it's probably the British Weather with its seasons that makes life so interesting.  The delight of a cool spring, with new growth and attractive hedgerow wild flowers, bringing a profusion of colour and random shape to the countryside, as it merges imperceptibly with summer's long days and sometimes hot temperatures, fades only with the onset of late summer, when the plants start to look tired, the insects assume dominance and we wait impatiently for the onset of Autumn.  In turn, the reddening trees, casting off their autumnal shades, lose their wind resistance in preparation for the low pressure vortices that sweep in from the Atlantic, bringing the winter storms and torrential rain.

There's something nice about that, too, as we sit inside, warm and cosy around the fire, watching the nights lengthen and Christmas approach. By March, we're getting fed up with the cold rain and wind and - hey! Here comes Spring.

On hearing the first banger in Autumn

There's one major aspect of life in this part of the world that contrasts sharply with the big towns and cities around the rest of the UK. Around the 20th September, in any big city estate, the sound of fireworks - almost always bangers - would signal the arrival of early firework sales and provide a melodious counterpoint to the two-tone emergency vehicle sirens that abound in any conurbation.  Our area is mercifully free of that, with the November festival season usually starting late October. 

But there is a more serious issue with fireworks, and it's been steadily growing for some years. When we were all little kippers, and dutifully hid behind the kitchen window while dad abortively attempted to make the Catherine wheels spin (they never did) the only fireworks we could get were in flimsy cardboard boxes, usually costing a fortune, with some rather tiny 'Golden Rains', perhaps a spluttering 'Roman Candle' and one, measly and rather undernourished rocket.

That's all changed.  Today anyone - without proof of age or ID - can order a crate of fireworks over the internet that's powerful enough to mount a modest war. Rockets which could almost put a small dog into orbit, sparklers that could be used for cutting into the family safe and Fountains that will probably make aliens on a distant planet convinced that the Earth has suffered a small asteroid strike can be purchased  - year round - from many suppliers.

In the past, of course, it was the local newsagents who used to supply these harbingers of hell but they've become a lot more cautious, rightly fearing the consequences should little Jonny attempt the first moon landing with the neighbour's cat. The big DIY stores still stock some, but have introduced some controls over their purchase.

There's no denying that a decent firework display is an astonishing thing to experience.  The end-of-the pier event in Llandudno is wonderful, rivalling the best professional displays in terms of fluidity, sound and scale.  But that begs the question; should we still be allowing kids to get their hands on fireworks? Every year, someone, somewhere loses an eye on November 5th and the convention that we're still celebrating the saving of the King & Parliament in 1605 is not exactly a salient reason, although it has been noted that some Guys chucked on bonfires in recent years do bear more than a passing resemblance to various politicians, perhaps some justification for allowing the bonfires - at least - to continue.

And then there are dogs.  Dogs - contrary to popular belief - don't worry about the bangs so much.  It's the high frequency sounds, generated by some of the whizzing things that can wreak havoc with their delicate and extremely sensitive hearing.  But there has to be a balance. We live on an overcrowded island, although we're luckier than most. here in North Wales, and fireworks are a very attractive addition to any celebratory event.  And, fireworks or not, we can be sure the controversy over them will burn just as fiercely this year as ever.

What's in a name?

If you read the news long enough and often enough, you may start to wonder whether we ever read anything that is actually true, completely objective and without any sort of agenda. That should worry people, but it seems many are totally unaware of the manipulation, persuasion and falsification news reporters and subs routinely engage in when writing reports.

Entire fields of study exist to cover media manipulation, but if we ask the right questions every time we read something in the news, then we can start to see how it all works. Let’s start with a very simple example. What has the marital and progenitive status of anyone to do with their alleged crime? The Daily Post this week reports

POLICE chiefs have blasted a grandmother who falsely claimed a cop broke her foot.

If we examine that comment, there is so much in so few words which is utterly irrelevant, unprovable and probably untrue, but which folk read and believe.  But ask the questions: what does ‘blasted’ mean in that context? How does the reporter know that anyone ‘blasted’ anyone? What has the fact that the woman was a grandmother to do with anything? And who were the ‘Police Chiefs’?

If you read stories about people aged 16 - 19, they’re described in a number of ways;  children, young people, youths, yobs, tearaways - even young men and young women when it suits the news outlet. But each of those terms evokes a different image. According to the Children Act, they’re children only until 16, which is when the age of consent kicks in.  But with that definition, any male who has sex with a girl aged 15 and 11 months is liable to conviction as a paedophile.

The news media routinely push their own agendas, even if the only agenda they’re pushing is to stay in business by selling more papers.  The tabloid press is extremely skilled at this sort of manipulation, with the egregious and reactionary Daily Mail at the forefront.  Ignoring its slavish devotion to all things Tory and its continuing slanting of the news against the Labour party, even its non-poitical stories reek.  Today it ran an article on Cern headed, in its typically understated way

Black hole scientist at 'Big Bang' Hadron Collider lab held as suspected Al Qaeda terrorist

Ah. So we can glean from that Islamic terrorists are working on bombs that will deliver black holes (which everyone knows are really nasty things) to anyone nice and Western, can we?  Gosh. But as the article later reveals, he wasn’t even a Cern employee. The Independent reveals

French sources suggested to Le Figaro that he was not planning to threaten the collider itself. Officials at Cern added that the arrested scientist had no access to materials that could be used for terrorism.

which, given what Cern does, is hardly a surprise. We also learn he didn’t even get as far as the hadron collider itself, not having the required security level. But how many folk will pick up the wrong notions, purely from the headlines? The answer, unfortunately, is too many, and these people are the ones that drive knee-jerk reaction legislation.  What’s the answer? Simple;  always ask more questions and - in particular - ask what the article isn’t telling you. 

Our society excels at double standards;  the sorts of standards that see hard working individuals barred from meetings of political parties because of previous (and perfectly legal) political allegiances, when the same party happily encourages those with serious criminal convictions to join. The sorts of standards that sees people being urged to go ‘greener’ while the government of the day routinely leaves lights burning in empty offices all night long. The sorts of standards that encourage MPs to lie about their earnings, to lie about their expenses and to brazenly defend a system which has been long discredited.  The sort of standards which allows the party with the fewest votes to form a government.  Perhaps it’s time for a change.

'Oos that, then?

The dark mornings are beginning to become wearing. Shortly there’ll be a respite, as the clock goes back and we enjoy GMT once again.

Every so often someone comes along with the idea to stop the clocks being turned back for a variety of reasons and once - in the UK - we tried it for a whole year or so. Didn’t like it.

Road safety is the single most touted reason for keeping the clocks on BST.  But that was before schools started - slowly - to adopt the continental-style of timing, with earlier starting times and much earlier endings.  And, personally, the thought of driving in the dark while a horde of mothers combine driving their 4 x 4s with telling the kids to be quiet, settling arguments, realising they’re going to be late for school, thinking of what they’re going to pick up from Tesco’s and watch the road ahead is more than a little scary.

And there is evidence that many find coming round to full operational status first thing on a dark morning very difficult, with slower reaction times, lessened sensitivity to stimulus and inhibited  cognition, all useful to have in spades as you head towards a crowded roundabout heaving with the aforesaid mothers and using Land cruisers as elbows.

No; keeping things as they are with the possible exception that bringing the hour change forward a couple of weeks is probably the ideal. Alternatively, we could all hibernate.

Spare a penny, gov?

The Conwy CBC statement of accounts for 2008/9 is now available and fascinating reading it makes. As with all such things, it ain’t easy for the layman (anyone who's not a chartered accountant) to read, but some juicy titbits are worth looking at. The full file can be found here:

http://www.conwy.gov.uk/upload/public/attachments/391/Updated_200809_Statement_of_Accounts.pdf

The document should be easy to read; it is, after all, our money they’re spending, whether indirectly, through the RSG or directly through council tax. However, when faced with mysterious phrases like

STATEMENT OF TOTAL RECOGNISED GAINS AND LOSSES

it would be nice to know if the figure of £155,000,000 is a gain, a loss, or what. The accounts merely state

Total recognised (gains) or losses for the year.

It also seems that CCBC has £41,000,000 deposited with banks and building societies, which is worth noting given that our Council tax bills never, ever fall, despite the B of E’s assurances that we are currently in a period of almost negative inflation.

Education continues to consume the biggest slice of the cake, closely followed by Environmental and technical services. But perhaps the most interesting information is within  two categories:  Trading operations (p. 45) and Officers’ Emoluments (p.49). It’s here we learn that Venue Cymru has been running at a massive loss - over £1,100,000 last year alone, but the officers’ emoluments (that’s the money council officials get, in plain English) is even more interesting:

Looking at the chart, we see that there are eleven head teachers earning up to £70,000 pa, together with a similar number of council officers. What is more interesting, however, is that Conwy pays its officers handsomely. In what is a relatively small authority, there are no fewer than 8 employees which we - jointly - fund to the tune of more than £720,000 between them, with three earning more than £100,000 each and one on a staggering £180,000!

Conwy will no doubt argue it has to ‘pay the going rate’ for such people, but a going rate of more than £100,000 means that the employee in question had better be earning it, and one has to wonder how that is assessed. What are the criteria used to assess whether these highly-paid servants of ours are worth that much? It can’t be stress and pressure, otherwise the head teachers would be on double what they are.

Perhaps it’s time to start working out exactly what criteria should be used.  Their ability to manage the council so that council tax gets lowered instead of routinely raised might be a good start. But public accountability is something we have a right to expect from council officials. Hiding behind the councillors’ robes isn’t good enough;  we pay their wages and we need to know what our employees are doing to earn their cash.

Some years ago, California enacted state legislation that empowered the electorate to demand a cut in their state taxes -the equivalent of our council tax and VAT. The public did, and the result was that California management had to start shedding their over-paid managers and cutting back on councillor expenses.  Maybe it’s time to look at that right here.

Plain dippy

We've just returned from driving the A470 between Llanrwst and Glan Conwy.  The rain was clearly staking its claim to a place in Guinness under the ‘biblical deluges’ section, and visibility must have been a good twenty feet.  Some years ago legislation was passed making it an offence to drive without dipped headlights when visibility dropped below a certain threshold.  Now, virtually no driver is capable of determining the distance they can see whilst driving. Partly, this has to do with the brain’s capacity for compensation, partly to do with the fact that visibility is rarely a static measure.

The history of dipped headlight legislation is fascinating in and of itself.  In Hansard, 1963, we learn that

Dipped headlight experiments are being conducted in various parts of the country and will continue until the end of March. In Birmingham, there has been a welcome reduction in the number of road accidents this winter compared with last. It is, however, too early to say in what way and to what extent the experiment there has been a contributory factor. The results of this experiment will be fully studied by the Road Research Laboratory.

Such was the urgency with which the Government of the day pursued this that, in 1974 - eleven years later - Hansard reveals that Lord Swansea asked  Her Majesty's Government

what has been the effect on the accident rate of the use of dipped headlights after dark in those towns where their use has been encouraged; and whether they will make the use of dipped headlights compulsory after dark on all roads, whether lit or not, which are subject to a speed limit of more than 30 mph.

This produced the usual assortment of ignorance, hearsay and myth, with Lord Melchett’s asinine contribution being to observe

I can assure noble Lords that Her Majesty's Government will not be coming to any hasty decisions,

a somewhat redundant comment, given the eleven year gap between action and investigation  at that point.

What was worrying at that time was that Northern Europe was fast making dipped headlights compulsory 24 hours a day, despite the welter of objections from folk muttering about ‘dazzle’ and ‘reflections’.  One wonders why no one had grasped the real point: that the main function of dipped headlights is not to show you where you’re going;  they’re not that good at that, anyway.  Their real use - as motorcyclists have known for years - is to let others know you’re there. And that’s what so many people on the A470 in torrential rain don’t seem to understand.  When a line of vehicles approaches you in dreadful weather, they should all have their dipped beams engaged.  Those that haven’t will be all but invisible until they’re quite close.

Why people don’t comprehend this simple fact, and why they persist in the arrant stupidity of using only their sidelights or nothing at all is a mystery.  Being seen allows other vehicles to react in good time, pedestrians to make greater allowances and increases the overall safety of the vehicle and its occupants.  Not using them  - for whatever reason - increases the possibility that you’ll have an accident. But then, there will always be those who think only of themselves.

Happy birthday...

Astonishingly, it’s now almost six months since this blog first saw the light of day.  And, although it’s incredibly tempting to indulge in retrospective analysis, that’s not happening - mainly because it’s far too self-indulgent.

The day’s main news is, of course, dominated by the Tory Party conference at Manchester. These self-cogratulatory bashes at which the faithful give obeisance to their lauded leaders often mask the more serious point about such events: that conferences can be a useful way of testing the water with new ideas. The Tories - having been out of power for rather longer than they would have liked - are doing just that, but they’ve got a problem.  Well, several, really.

Tony Blair was - no matter your own political allegiances - an excellent Prime Minster.  So good was he, that he timed even his exit with a deftness normally associated with precision ballet. He left power - and the hapless Brown holding the reins - just before the world’s financial institutions imploded. Brown, of course, is dreadful.  Everything about him, from the strange little movement he does with his lower jaw at the end of every phrase to the monotonous ‘I know what’s needed’ drone that adds such scintillating counterpoint to his pronouncements seems to scream ‘Don’t elect us!’, and that’s the main reason why they have to get rid of him before next June.

But returning to the Tories, Cameron was made leader because the Tories finally realised that what was keeping them out of No. 10 wasn’t policies;  it wasn’t their track record.  It was - simply - their leaders.  Cameron knows that and he also knows that he has to win to retain his position.  But the really sad aspect of modern politics is that we treat them, now, as a reality show which - in some ways - they are.  And on reality shows it’s the person who comes over best to the media and makes fewest gaffes that seems to win.  Which is why Cameron will win.   He’s actually rather good in front of the cameras and he is - of course - the Tories’ Tony Blair, gambling on his sheer niceness on camera, his undoubted intelligence and his youth. But DC has to keep a close eye on his minions: the egregious Osborne or the malevolent Johnson could still inflict serious harm on their chances.  But the real threat would be if Labour decided to dispose of Brown and elect a new media-savvy leader. If that happened, then maybe we’d start to see something abut policies.

Behind you!

The news that a Panto company will soon be casting for a production of Dick Whittington in Colwyn Bay should prove welcome relief for CCBC chief executive, Byron Davies. The real-life character on which Dick is based - Richard Whittington - was, of course, a Councilman and the grandson of a Knight - Sir William de Whittington. Richard had an interesting life, being imposed as Lord Mayor of London on the city by the King in 1397. The deposition of Richard II in 1399 did not affect Whittington and it is thought that he merely acquiesced in the coup led by Bolingbroke. Whittington had long supplied the new king, Henry IV, as a prominent member of the landowning elite and so his business simply continued as before. He also lent the new king substantial amounts of money. He was elected mayor again in 1406 and in 1419, becoming a living legend in the process. In 1416, he became a Member of Parliament, and was also in turn influential with Henry IV's son, Henry V.  Despite being a moneylender himself he was sufficiently trusted and respected to sit as a judge in usury trials in 1421. Whittington also collected revenues and import duties.

Byron will almost certainly be thinking fondly of Dick’s successes, while simultaneously muttering about the fact that he, at least, didn’t have to contend with the internet. However, perhaps Byron would be better advised to consider the fate that befalls the baddie in most pantomimes. Cinderella ultimately married her Prince, despite the Step-mother’s attempts to prevent her enjoying life. In Goldilocks, a tale which conflates threads from Snow White and the original Goldilocks by Robert Southey, which uses an old woman as an arrogant interloper invading the Bears’ house, the visitor in both cases eats and drinks the residents’ comestibles, before falling asleep on their bed and - in the original story - leaps from the window after wreaking havoc on the belongings of the trusting and welcoming bears but is never seen again. In Sleeping Beauty the evil controlling influence of the Wicked Fairy is ultimately brought to nought by love and honour.

Of course, these are fairy stories, and we all know they don’t hold water in the real world. But one theme that does run throughout all moral tales is that repression, fibbing and high-handedness bring their own rewards - usually unpleasant ones. Let’s just hope Bryon doesn’t decide to go and buy any beans...

The iron fist

Well, the worst has happened. If reports are to be believed, many local bloggers and forums have fallen foul of draconian action taken by the Chief Executive of Conwy CBC to ban access to these sites from work computers in Conwy.  Does Byron Davies realise the full implications of this demagoguery? No longer will the planning department be able to peruse the details of who folk think Oscar really is, the sheer captivating delights of reading about double-scanning in Somerfields will be denied Trading Standards, whilst the Highways chaps won’t have the unalloyed joy of absorbing minutiae  about trams and monorails.

However light we make of this, there is a more serious side to what is - in effect - censorship.  The inimitable Jason Weyman on his highly informative and reliable blog reveals that both he and Cllr Groom asked the individual in question why such action had been taken. The response was startling in its clarity, perception and thoughtfulness:

I have been concerned with regard to staff and elected members bringing to my attention (instead of focusing on the job), slights, inaccuracies, innuendo and froth regarding staff and councillors which has been published on blog sites.

Oh dear. Notwithstanding that Byron’s grasp of English is less than sterling - rather tenuous, in fact - or his apparent requirement that the elected members only do what he deems important, what is actually being said here is that extracting information from external sources is not part of the remit of Conwy staff. And if we could find out what ‘froth’ means in the context, our life experience would be immeasurably enhanced, of that we can be sure. More worryingly,  however, he’s clearly being flexible with the truth.

Understandably, some have argued in favour, one anonymous contributor pointing out to Jason that “I agree with the CE, let the councillors and the employees look at these blogs and websites in their own free time. They are paid to work on official business not trawl the net. How would you feel Jason if your workers spent time chatting on their mobiles to friends or looking for holidays etc during work time when you are paying them.” but that comment itself makes several assumptions, one of which appears to be that ‘trawling the ‘net’ is not a legitimate use of an employee’s time.  Surely, however, that would depend on exactly what the purpose of the trawling was and what was found.

None of this matters, however, when we look at the real consequences of such actions. Although employers have the right to insist on their employees working during the working day and the prescribed hours, simply to deny access in such an arbitrary fashion to one identified ‘froth’ source makes a significant and not altogether healthy observation  about the standard of management within Conwy council offices.

Employees have work to do and the managers’ job is to ensure that a reasonable amount of that work is completed within a reasonable time. If Byron thinks the workers are not, as he puts it “focusing on the job” then there are legitimate remedies available to the management, such as competency and fitness hearings. Unless, of course, he has no evidence of his allegations.

In his rather less than erudite, not to say somewhat broken English, he goes on to say 

“Any officer or councillor can, in their own time and using their own equipment, have access to the internet and blog sites as they see fit however, I do not see why Council facilities and resources should be misused and wasted on these matters.”

If that’s the case, then perhaps he should present evidence to support his peremptory action. What evidence exists that “Council facilities and resources (are being) misused and wasted”?  Or does he, in fact, have any at all? Surely, he can't be doing this simply on hearsay, or after requests by a couple of councillors?  That would indeed call his capacity to be CE into question.  It's one thing appointing someone who finds the composition of  simple sentences daunting,   (although why they did is a little disconcerting) but appointing someone whose ability is to make judgement calls based upon imaginary evidence seems of far greater concern.

Of course, he’s in good company. China, Burma, Vietnam, North Korea and Egypt all block access to sites which comprise content the rulers would rather their citizens not see. But he really should consider exactly why he’s doing it. There are a number of possibilities why people censor, but the single most common reason is that they fear the truth.  And they fear their minions learning the truth.  Byron’s facile and ethereal arguments simply don’t hold water;  censoring access to any medium for a whole cohort of workers is dangerous, short-sighted and trading on their willingness to accept the actions without question.  But the final, albeit paraphrased, word belongs to Amnesty:

“An (agency) which censors the information available to its people, other than in a state of national emergency is an (agency) which seeks to keep the people in a state of ignorance, and should not complain if the people have no loyalty to it.”

Byron;  we’re only sorry you won’t be able to see that you have been warned.

Training politicans

If there’s one thing that brings home how pleasant North Wales is, it’s a drive to and from Coventry. Now, before the massed denizens of the Midlands rise up to cry ‘Foul!’ and start burning effigies of Carneades, let me explain. I have nothing against Coventry. In fact, as far as I can see, it’s a city like any other, with doubtless its fair share of beauty, crime, problems and decent shopping.

No - it’s getting there that imbues me with a deep and earnest loathing. In the UK the transport system is largely based on horse and cart tracks, or Roman roads. At one time, of course, it had a wonderful railway system, until the Conservative government of the early and mid-sixties, with typically myopic foresight and a careful eye to lining their own pockets allowed the owner of Marples Ridgway, the road building company that built the Chiswick flyover and a member of the British Roads Federation, the organisation started in 1931 in response to a government plan to put all long haul freight onto rail at the ridiculously low and uneconomic rates that rail was forced to charge by law, to create a raft of reasons why roads, petrol-guzzling cars, massive lorries, fumes and pollution generally were better for the country than investment in trains, trams and other far less-polluting forms of transport. Ernest Marples, the Minster for transport (there’s a misnomer if ever there was one) virtually dismantled the railways and condemned us all to years of unbelievable traffic jams, congestion, parking tickets and sick kids.

His legacy is alive and well today, as anyone who risks life and limb by driving between Llandudno and Coventry can testify. There are - in reality - only two routes; either the A5 or the A55, both of which converge onto the A5 near Oswestry, from where a series of single carriageway death-traps, clearly designed by builders whose ancestors created the stadium for the Ben Hur chariot race, funnel traffic travelling at sizeable fractions of the speed of light eventually onto the M54. Thereafter, the experienced driver knows to ignore the misleading road signs which attempt to suggest that exit 2 is the one to take if you want the toll road, the only sanity-preserving option, and take instead exit 1, to embark on a road some three miles in length cluttered with no fewer than seven speed cameras before the sanctuary of the toll road is reached.

The thing is we shouldn’t have to do this. We ought to have a reliable, regular, cost-effective public transport system that could whisk us about the country in a calm and restful environment and cause as little damage to the biosphere as possible. And it’s so easy.

Even our own towns could do it, if the government of the day were to invest a fraction of the money they spend on road maintenance on alternative public transport systems. In Llandudno, we could easily have a new, modern tram system, that would pay for itself within a comparatively short time. But the monorail - long spurned by those who have no idea what they’re talking about - is one of the world’s most successful mass transit systems, moving millions a year in totally reliable and accident-free trains. The monorail has all the advantages of the trams and none of their disadvantages: smoothness, reliability, extremely low pollution, easy switching, low running costs and - best of all - separation from other road users with a minute footprint for the supporting towers. Remember - when they tell us there's no money, it's worth reminding them that they spent nearly a trillion quid of ours in propping up companies ruined by greed and incompetence.

Come the next election, forget big social issues, which none of the parties has a hope in hell of solving anyway, forget wars, forget national debt. A vote for the party that promises trams and monorails around the country and in any town that wants them within five years might not be such a bad idea.