Letter to Clive

This week's soft target of the usually more witty Clive James

Clive James writes a weekly column in The Guardian.  In today's edition he's having a patronising dig at Jeremy Corbyn, leader of the British Labour Party, and a less than subtle go at Mr. Corbyn's support for a policy of not replacing the UK's so-called independent nuclear deterrent - Trident.

Clive writes, 

I admire the way [Jeremy Corbyn's] principles are uninhibited by reason. I also like his beard, which reminds me of one of the beards I grew at various times in my life when I wished to prove I was still a student, even though the years had passed. Corbyn is a student at heart.

I couldn't resist a response. It's here. 

Dear Clive, 

I know you strive to be witty and for that you have our respect. But (as you know) the Trident thing is not about beards or eyes glittering with goodness. 

Field Marshall the Lord Bramall KG GCB OBE MC, former chief of the defence staff, is, as far as one can tell, clean-shaven AND opposed to the Trident nuclear missile system, writing "our independent deterrent has become virtually irrelevant, except in the context of domestic politics." 

And General the Lord Ramsbotham GCB CBE, former Adjutant General, former ADC to Her Majesty the Queen is, like Lord Bramall, clean-shaven and, like both Lord Bramall and Jeremy Corbyn, opposed to the Trident nuclear missile system. Lord Ramsbotham wrote, 

"We don't own the missiles and it is absolutely unthinkable that we should ever consider using it or threatening to use it without having the clearance of the United States". 

"The fact is that Trident is an inappropriate weapons system. You can't see Trident being used against something like nuclear blackmail by international terrorism. It is a cold war weapon. It is not a weapon for the situation where we are now." 

Two more points, if I may. 

Having a dig at the Daily Mail version of Mr. Corbyn is beneath a man of your intelligence and wit. Sinking to the Mail's level belittles you. 

And it's my confident guess you are being disingenuous when you suggest you were nicer when a student than you are now. I'll bet my house on it that your peers would beg to differ, even those who liked and admired you. 

You can join CND here http://www.cnduk.org Beards are not compulsory.

I'm very glad to see my remarks have produced some quite agitated responses from Tories. Who knew they trawled The Guardian looking for Lefties to abuse? I would have thought that's about as difficult as shooting fish in a barrel.

Writing exercises from Week 2 of my MOOC

Emma said that ...

Time was running out. The ship would sail from Southampton on Tuesday morning. She was sure Cranston would be on board. He was losing his nerve and since the incident with the Chinese magician it was clear he trusted no one. We do it now or we're all in for a very long sea voyage.

I remember ...

I remember the look on her face. But that’s it. Nothing else.

I know we spoke. Of course I do. I'm the one that told her Brian had been in an accident. In the car. On the way to work.

Did I mention the fire? I don't remember the exact words ... my words. But I must have mentioned the fire because her face ... well, it just changed ... became something I've never seen before. It started with her eyes, you know? As if a veil had been lifted and it was all right there in front of her ... not me ... but the car, Brian, the flames. Directly in front of her eyes. 

I shouldn't have mentioned the fire. 

"Carol ... Brian's been in an accident. It's serious and he's in the hospital. I've come to take you." That's what I should have said. 

But I don't remember. I must have said 'fire' ...

'Emma said that' & 'I remember' are both really good ways to have started these two exercises. I don't think I'd have come up with either of my scenarios without such prompts and the ... 'just do it' ... approach to completing a sentence then seeing where that leads.

I didn't know there was someone by the name of Cranston inside me who would become nervous after whatever happened to the Chinese magician! Eh? Where did that come from? Well, it seems 'Emma said it' so it must be true. And the same sort of vital spark of story-telling started the piece below. Same thing as 'Emma'. 'I remember' ... who knew?

The beginning of the end

I doubt we'd agree on anything but the world owes
Megyn Kelly a great debt for not giving in
to Donald Trump's intimidation

The Guardian is giving one of its 'live update' reports on the run up to today's Republican Party candidates debate in Iowa. The latest update I saw (21:14 local time) begins with this paragraph

Billionaire Republican front-runner and aspiring solo (debate) artist Donald Trump gave a scorched-earth performance on the airwaves of the very network whose upcoming presidential debate he plans to boycott.

I think we're beginning to witness the beginning of the end of Donald Trump, Presidential-candidate aspirant.
I wrote these words in the Guardian's comment section.

I could be wrong here - but I think I'm not. This begins to look like the moment the ridiculous Mr. Trump suddenly grasped that the world is real after all, that the Earth is not flat, that in the cold light of day almost no one actually cares what he thinks. Running scared Donald, shouting 'look over here'. And out of time. Very soon not even his most enthusiastic supporters will be listening to a word he says. 

Snake oil salesmen get found out eventually. And he has no one to blame but himself, although for a while he will try to blame everyone and anyone who is not Donald Trump. It will begin with sackings or departures from his campaign team.

Self-serving fool.

Should I wait until I'm inspired?

That's the question kicking off exercise 2.14 of the second week of my Open University MOOC - Start Writing Fiction.  It's about getting starting by plunging in. Part of the introduction to the exercise read this way:

Don’t wait until you have the perfect first line. In practice, it often transpires that perfect first lines no longer fit with the story once it’s written out. Instead, try to think of your opening line as being simply like a doorway that you must pass through to get into the ‘room’ of your story. The doorway is much less important than what’s inside the room – focus on that. If you find yourself ‘seeing the whole story at once’, and you’re unsure where to begin, concentrate on one particular detail and start there. 

Example: You want to write about a young man and his girlfriend. He’s just realised he’s in love with her, and is going to say so, but you think that having him just saying ‘I love you’ will sound a bit flat. So, think about how else you could approach it.

And this was my response.

Alice flung her bag onto the kitchen table, knocking the fruit bowl. An apple fell out, wobbled on the weathered pine then rolled to the edge from which it plummeted, ending-up nestled between the refrigerator and the cat's saucer of half-eaten 'Chicken Dee-lite'. With a phone cradled between her neck and ear, Alice payed no attention to the wayward fruit. She was intent on the voice at the other end, making sure she caught every word. 

Weary from the day's routines, Alice slumped into the chair beside the table. And while adjusting the phone with one hand, she reached into her bag with the other to extract a crumpled pack of cigarettes. She had sworn she would give up but this was serious. So she pulled one from the pack, put it to her lips then rummaged in her bag again until the lighter came to hand. Alice lit the cigarette, drew heavily, then - as she arched her spine against the back of the chair, eyes to the ceiling - exhaled deeply. 

Something Alice heard made her sit upright. "Frank," she said, "it just won't work. You know? You can't keep messing up like this then hope things'll be OK by saying I love you." Alice paused. Listened. Spoke again. "Frank," she said, "grow up!"

Maybe 10 minutes to write the first draft.  An hour to get it down to less than 1200 characters to fit inside the submission window.  Still writing every day. Still hope for this old man.

They do not make them like this any more ...

Introduced Spike to Alfred Hitchcock's The 39 Steps

Burns Night on Australia Day

Robert Burns - 1759 to 1796

There are eleven hours today - between Midnight and eleven o'clock this morning - when my past and present meet, where the miles between the land of my birth and the land I now call home vanish.  Time and space collapsed through the cultural connections I make.  They help shape my identity in ways I don't fully understand.

January 25th is the celebration of the birth and life of Scotland's national poet, Robert Burns.  He was born on the 25th January in 1759 in the village of Alloway, south of the town of Ayr.  Here in Australia today it's our national holiday commemorating - increasingly controversially - the arrival of the 'First Fleet' in the great southern land in 1788.  The vast continent would be claimed as territory for King George III by Captain Arthur Phillip when he and a dozen or so oarsmen and military personnel landed at Sydney Cove from HMS Supply. The other ships in the fleet were marooned in Botany Bay by a fierce storm.  Burns was 29 years old on that very day.

My blog draws its name from Burns who wrote a poem To A Louse: On Seeing One On A Lady's Bonnet, At Church (1786). I'm the louse that answered back.

My friend Stuart Hepburn (we met at university where we were political rivals in fiercely opposed left-wing camps) delivered an astonishing, awe-inspiring rendition of Burns's comic masterpiece Tam O'Shanter, written in 1790. I believe you'll not come across a finer interpretation of the poem anywhere than Stuart's rendition. Burns would be the first to raise a glass and cheer.

'Tam O Shanter' by Robert Burns, performed by Stuart Hepburn from Prancing Jack Productions on Vimeo.

Summer in Australia ...... a winter wonderland?????

Not quite a polar vortex ...

... but enough to trouble a plaster-cast wombat
and his friends - the teapots.

We had temperatures in the high-thirties last week - 38 and 39 degrees, a total fire-ban and plants in dire need of rain.  This evening, as we arrived home from shopping, this lot and much, much more fell in two minutes.