Are you stockpiling medicines, food or other items ahead of Brexit for personal use in the event of a catastrophe? Or do you have confidence in the government to make sure that life carries on as normal after March 29th? Votes and thoughts welcome – either on the twitter poll while it’s still open or in the comments below.
Are you putting together a personal stockpile of food, medicines and other items ahead of #Brexit ?
Two views of the harbour at Dartmouth, the first taken in 1955 and the second a couple of days ago. Not very much seems to have changed in the last 64 years. The walls are no longer whitewashed, boats are mainly fibreglass instead of wood, Lloyds Bank is now Jack Wills and The Stores is a branch of Boots.
Elsewhere, The Flavel Arts Centre serves a good coffee and the Dartmouth Museum is small but welcoming. The newly refurbished Platform 1 Station Bar & Restaurant has a great view of the river and is decorated with well-known Winston Churchill quotations. I munched through my scampi and chips under the steely gaze of the former PM, wondering what he’d make of the mess his country is in.
After my 100% non-success rate last year, I’ve wiped the Christmas pudding from my crystal ball again in the hope that this time it will be different. Let us, in the words of Her Majesty, practice goodwill to all in 2019 and keep our fingers firmly crossed. Old Timmy’s Almanac is your essential guide to the new year once more.
Ignoring the Queen’s Christmas message, Prime Minister Theresa May has all MPs who oppose her EU withdrawal bill (the best possible deal ever, trust me, I have an honest face™) locked up in the Tower of London. The bill passes by 3 votes to nil, with the support of former Lib Dem MP Stephen Lloyd. The third vote in favour is that of Jeremy Corbyn, who insists that he is still playing the long game.
Jacob Rees-Mogg organises a daring escape attempt from the Tower of London, supported by his ERG chums. Climbing onto the wall above the Traitor’s Gate, he persuades them that half a dozen British ravens will fly them all to safety in an empty Fortnum and Mason hamper. As they all get in, the ravens decide that it’s probably best to vacate the tower and leave the country to its fate.
In the manner that has been typical of her premiership, Theresa May forgets to get royal assent for her EU withdrawal bill. The UK crashes out of the EU at 11pm on the 29th. Big Ben bongs once and then collapses into the Thames in embarrassment.
Jeremy Corbyn joins the Conservatives saying that he misses being in a mad Bolshevik party. Corbyn supporters on twitter tell Conservatives that don’t like this move to go and join the Labour Party, socialist s*** that they obviously are.
Derby County fail to be promoted to the Premier League yet again.
In an attempt to deal with increasing shortages of everything, Chris Grayling awards transportation contracts to an air freight company with no aeroplanes, a haulage company with no trucks, and a ferry operator with no ships. (Not the last one, that’s far too improbable. Perhaps a train operator with no trains? Ed.)
Using a little known parliamentary tactic, Jacob Rees-Mogg seizes control of the government. Theresa May heaves a huge sigh of relief as she is sent to the tower. His first act as prime minister is to introduce tax relief for families employing more than three nannies and to declare Latin the official language of parliament.
Jacob Rees-Mogg is ousted through a no-confidence vote of Conservative MPs. Parliament votes for a six month recess. The country immediately starts to recover a little from the privations of Brexit. Supermarket shelves are now stocked with exciting new British foods, but strictly rationed by a beta app which only works on Blackberry handsets. Government Digital Services (GDS) promise to release a beta for the Nokia 3310 soon.
Frank Lampard is sacked as Derby County manager. In a surprise move, Mel Morris appoints Jacob Rees-Mogg in his place. Nottingham Forest supporters rejoice, until Theresa May is appointed their manager the following day. In an unprecedented show of unity, Derby and Forest fans threaten to blockade the A52 until both are removed.
Rees-Mogg and May are sacked. Derby fans cheer the reappointment of Billy Davies as their manager, while Nottingham Forest fans are overcome with joy at the return of Steve McLaren.
Formula E remains almost watchable. The World Feed commentator now understands what a yellow flag is for. However, he has to consult his co-commentator as to the meaning of the “lovely black and white square patterned one”.
Professional MasterChef is won by George, a sous-chef at the Spoon and Gammon. His main course of rat three ways (carpaccio, sous-vide and boiled) with flowers that might not be too poisonous and a mud jus is praised by the judges. As the credits roll, we learn that William Sitwell, food critic and former Waitrose Food magazine editor, is finally out of hospital after an unfortunate incident with a turnip during knockout week.
One of my Christmas Day highlights (*) was seeing John Schlesinger’s film Terminus for the first time in many years. A 33 minute short produced by British Transport Films, it documents a day at Waterloo Station in 1961. I remember being forced to watch and write about the film on a number of occasions at school. Making comparisons between the hive of bees at the start of the film and the people rushing around the station was an obvious one, even for a bored teenager.
Terminus felt it belonged to a bygone era when I first watched it, although only 16 years would have elapsed since it had been made. The railways of today seem much closer to those of 1977, even if the internet has superseded telephone timetable enquiries. After all, I still sometimes travel to London on a 1970s InterCity 125.
After a rather sleepless night, there was excellent news from the hospital this morning. I have almost normal blood again and there was no evidence of lymphoma on my PET/CT scan. In January I will start on maintenance rituximab injections, every two months for three years.
It’s not beaten, because MCL never is. However, the beast is soundly asleep and snoring ™ (*) which means I can return to being a productive member of society. I’m starting to feel good about myself again.
I saw the first Formula E race of the 2018/19 season last weekend. I’ve watched parts of races in previous seasons, but it’s always felt unwatchable due to the limitations of the cars. The new Gen2 cars are a significant advance on the original ones as the battery life is sufficient to last the whole race (45 minutes, plus a lap). No more mid-race car changes. The cars are also significantly faster, with a claimed top speed of 174mph.
Close racing is more likely than in Formula 1 as the cars are largely standard. However, as far as I can work out, the powertrains and software aren’t, leaving room for innovation. One innovation I’d love to see is a change to the noise that the cars make. They sound dreadful – like a drill with the wrong bit working its way through plastic. I assume that the annoying lift music used during replays is the broadcaster’s attempt to mask the sound.
Even with the new cars it’s a complicated and frustrating formula to watch. One gimmick – the so-called fan boost – gives a few seconds of additional power to five drivers. The fortunate five are selected by the viewers and to my mind this has no place in competitive motor sport. However, fan boost didn’t seem to give much advantage to the lucky drivers. F1 exile and fan boost beneficiary Stoffel Vandoorne demonstrated that he didn’t need a McLaren to run around at the back of the pack. Felipa Massa also suffered two retrospective penalties for using it incorrectly.
Other penalties (drive throughs – but not always) for technical infringements concerning energy use during the race were liberally applied and poorly explained to the viewer. There’s no question that these penalties affected the result of the race in Ad Diriyah, won eventually by Antonio Da Costa.
The other main gimmick – the attack zone – is better thought out and is a genuine test of a driver’s racecraft. By going off-line at one part of the track, the maximum power of the car is increased for four minutes. Drivers must go through the attack zone twice in a race, so timing is everything. One driver managed to lose a place while trying (but failing) to go through the zone; another activated it at the start of a safety car period.
Eurosport’s race presentation (using the FIAs world feed) was mostly dire, with the honourable exception of Dario Franchitti’s contributions. His co-commentator was generally poor. At one point he even seemed confused as to whether cars could pass each other under a yellow flag. Cameras often failed to follow the action and cut away just when something interesting was happening. The less said about Vernon Kay the better, but your mileage may vary I suppose.
The next race is on January 12th in Marrakesh. On balance I shall give Formula E another chance.
I’m not necessarily known for the accuracy of my predictions. But having watched the coverage from Downing Street this morning while trying not to utter too many expletives, here’s my latest hostage to fortune.
I expect Theresa May to win the confidence vote tonight, with around 75-80 of her colleagues voting against her.
Not that it changes anything if she does win. It is all a self-indulgent side-show while the country burns – taking Derby with it. I hope that every member of the Conservative party is feeling a deep sense of shame.
After this afternoon’s debacle in the Commons, I’m certain that the Prime Minister is trying to run the clock down towards March 29th 2019 so that MPs will have to eventually vote for her deal or risk crashing out of the EU with no deal at all. At the same time I think she’s trying to engineer a personal backstop of a new referendum, should her continuing attempts to blackmail MPs not work. However, I’m convinced that should a Theresa May inspired referendum happen, it would be of the ludicrously high-stakes “my deal or crash out with no deal” kind.
I don’t know how I’d vote in such a referendum. Actively voting for “no deal” is easy to rule out. I want politicians to stop wasting time on Europe, and focus on mending the rifts in our society, tackling poverty and promoting opportunity for all. I’d quite like my cancer drugs, food and power supplies to carry on uninterrupted next year. I want my 33+ years of pension savings to be worth something in retirement.
But to willingly vote for her xenophobic deal which ends free movement and reduces the life chances of everyone in the UK? I think – maybe – I’d prefer to spoil my ballot paper. I can’t decide at the moment if that would be the principled thing to do – or merely stupid. It’s a decision I never want to be forced to make.
The Brexit can is still being kicked. We are all in it together. It’s about to go over the cliff edge with us to our collective doom.
Unless, of course, sane MPs on all sides of the house show some backbone and start to work together. They need either to cancel Brexit by withdrawing our article 50 notification, or ask the electorate to take that decision for them.
As we’re a parliamentary democracy, the first course of action should be the preferred one.
I recently found a couple of Pathescope films shot by my father in the early 1950s. The more interesting one is of grasstrack motorcycle racing in September 1951.
Pathescope is a 9.5mm cine film format with the sprocket hole in the centre. It was introduced in 1922 and was most popular with amateur film-makers in France and the UK. Pathescope Limited was the subject of a workers’ buyout in 1959, but went bankrupt in 1960. In a precursor to the VHS/Betamax wars of the 1980s, an arguably superior format fell to the greater marketing muscle of Kodak and the far wider range of suppliers supporting the 8mm standard. The very late introduction of Pathescope colour film also didn’t help.
When I had the film digitised (+) I thought the location may have been Kirkby Mallory in Leicestershire. In 1951 Kirkby Hall was still standing, but only just (it was demolished in 1952), after wartime use by the military. The British Championships were held there on 2nd September, and this film was processed on the 25th. Grasstrack racing was held at Kirkby Mallory up until 1956. It ended when a tarmac circuit – Mallory Park – was laid for the princely sum of £50,000.
However, a closer examination of the film plus a glance through his 1951 diary instead confirms the location as Hopwell Hall (-), near Ockbrook. The racing took place on Sunday 23rd September. There’s a couple of seconds of my grandfather midway through the film, which was an unexpected bonus.
(-) Hopwell Hall was a Special School run by Nottinghamshire County Council (in Derbyshire) from the 1920s up until the 1980s/90s. In the 1950s, motorcycle racing took place in the surrounding parklands. It was converted into a £6m, 10 bedroom house in the late 1990s and has been privately owned since.