Song of the Week: Way Back in the 1960s

August 27th, 2008

The Incredible String Band
Way Back in the 1960s

This site is going relatively quiet for a week or two as I head up to sunny Scotland* for a week or so. To celebrate here’s a tune from Scotland’s (other) finest - The Incredible String Band. In this track, ‘Way Back in the 1960s’, the String Band veer away from their usual hippy folk nonsense and dip their toes into the worlds of ‘humour’ and ‘irony’. To mixed results.

‘Way Back in the 1960s’, The Incredible String Band from The 5000 Spirits or The Layers of the Onion, 1967

* If you say it often enough it might happen…

Little England

August 25th, 2008

We found ourselves in the Berkshire town of Beaconsfield this weekend. We were there to visit Bekonscot, a model village built by a bored London accountant in 1929 to entertain his friends. The folly started off as a few houses in his garden but wound up as a series of 6 inter-connected model villages over 1½ acres.

By some strange co-incidence we discovered whilst there that Beaconsfield was noneother than the home of Enid Blyton. And what a perfect coupling. Like Enid Blyton, Bekonscot Model Village seeks to ‘depict an idealised view of life in the 1930s’ - in other words the kind of England where the people who voted for Enid Blyton as their favourite author might aspire to live.

The England where:

  1. Everyone lives in thatched roof cottages (even if they are fire prone)
  2. Happy families pose by their Aston Martins
  3. Fox hunting is fine way to spend a weekend
  4. Evangelical missionaries can be found converting the villagers
  5. Morris dancers are given free reign in the traffic-less town square

To be fair though, Bekonscot Model Village does have a colliery - its tucked away in the corner on the way out, just past the cable car…

Lashings of ginger beer

August 20th, 2008

I’m sorry to be getting all angsty this past week, but what is wrong with this country at the moment?

It was only earlier this week that I was bemoaning the fact that nearly half of the British population allegedly believe that the BBC isn’t good value for money. Now I discover that the nation’s favourite author is Enid Blyton.

Now, I’ve nothing against Enid Blyton. I devoured her books when I was a child and there will always be a very firm place in my heart for the faraway tree, the wishing chair, Mr Meddle, Mr Pink Whistle, the naughtiest girl in the school, Julian, Dick and Anne, George and Timmy the dog et. al.

Enid taught me all about the mysterious ‘English’ world of ginger beer, school monitors, lacrosse, conkers, bluebell woods, secret passwords and hidden passageways, wobbling blancmanges, sugar mice, moors, mists and marshes and outsmarting smugglers  - but I would never say that she was my favourite author.

Although I loved her imagination and her alternate world where fairies bake ‘pop biscuits’ and children are always right, even as a child I knew that Enid’s stories were simplistic, repetitive and churned out at a rate of knots.

Citing Enid Blyton (or indeed Roald Dahl and JK Rowling, second and third on the list respectively) as your favourite author when you’re over the age of 12 is more than just longing wistfully for some nostalgic past that never existed, it’s a refusal to engage with adult issues full stop. Surely the people who voted for her don’t still read about the adventures of the Secret Seven with a torch under the blankets? Haven’t they moved on?

On the positive side, it’s nice that people don’t have to pretend that they love Chaucer or Shakespeare; they can unashamedly state that their favourite author is the woman behind the ghastly Noddy…

Rant over. Normal service (i.e. boring anecdotes about public transport etc.) will resume next week.

Song of the Week: Reasons

August 20th, 2008

Minnie Riperton
Reasons

Perfect Angel, Minnie Riperton

Earlier in the year I was at Gilles Peterson’s Worldwide Awards, queuing at the bar, when this song come on. It seemed vaguely familar, but over the bar noise I couldn’t figure out what it was. Bits of the tune managed to stick in my head, annoyingly unidentified until this very week when Gilles played it again on Worldwide (albeit an unneccessary re-edit by Theo Parrish) and I realised immediately who it was. Minnie Riperton. Of course! I went and dug it out from my CD collection and haven’t stopped playing it since.

‘Reasons’, Minnie Riperton (from Perfect Angel, 1974 or Les Fleurs: The Minnie Riperton Anthology, EMI, 2001)

For more great early 70s soul this week, check out Ann Peebles round at Roman Empress’

To license fee or not to license fee

August 18th, 2008

I read in today’s Guardian that their exclusive poll (aren’t they all?) reveals that 47% of respondents disagree that the BBC license fee is good value for money.

Are these people the biggest bunch of cheapskates ever?
And what the heck do they think is good value for money?

The license fee presently costs £139.50  a year. For that you get ten ‘interactive’ TV channels, a plethora of radio stations and a pretty damn good internet service - all without ads. Granted, there is some absolute tosh on the BBC which I do resent paying for, but there is also some great stuff as well and, as an entertainment / information / learning resource, I think that the BBC does pretty well.

To put it into perspective, £139.50 (at London prices) gets you approximately one of the following:

  1. 50 pints and min. 25 evenings of pub politics
  2. 18 mid-priced CDs
  3. 5 trips to see a typical band or comedy act at a typical mid-capacity venue
  4. 18 trips to the movies
  5. 116 chip butties
  6. entry to 12 ‘blockbuster’ exhibitions at the British Museum, Natural History Museum or V&A
  7. 3 quarters of a typical 12 week language course

OR

a whole year of all of:

  1. the Today programme
  2. Gideon Coe, Gilles Peterson, Steve Lamacq, Tony Blackburn, Stuart Maconie and Mark Radcliffe
  3. Later… and Just a Minute
  4. Mark Kermode’s film reviews and repeats of the proper Batman on BBC4
  5. Masterchef and the Food Programme
  6. Simon Scharma, David Starkey, David Attenborough and Melvyn Bragg
  7. excellent online language learning support materials

But then again I live in London so, according to the survey, I would say that.

How would you describe your ethnic background?

August 15th, 2008

Such a simple question, such big issues. For much of my working life I have had to deal with the inevitable ‘ethnicity’ questions which are a fact of life for anyone who deals with statistical monitoring in the public sector, or indeed for any organisation who cares about who their users are.

For despite what various members of the general public think, it is actually useful for organisations to know who their users are - the age groups they fall into, the areas they live, whether they have a disability or not, and yes, their ethnic or cultural background. It gives you an indication of whether your products or services are appealing to all of the different people who live in this country - which, if you’re receiving your funding from the tax payer, is the responsible thing to do.

Yes, the categories for ethnicity that are forced upon us from central government are crude, presumptuous and tiresome. They expect people to fall neatly into categories like White (British, Irish, ‘Other’), Black (Caribbean, African, ‘Other’), Asian (Indian, Pakistani, Bangladeshi, ‘other’), Chinese, ‘Mixed’, ‘Other’ etc. etc. and don’t separate ‘ethnic identity’ from ‘cultural identity’ (e.g. people born in another country, but who consider themselves to be British).

But people can always write in their own description and, even if they’re limited and not as precise as we would like, the categories do have their uses. They allow you to compare your organisations data to the national average for example.

Still in the organisations I’ve worked for,  users routinely take matters into their own hands, crossing out the standard government classifications and writing in their own versions. Typical responses I’ve seen over the years include:

  1. crossing out British and writing in English, Welsh, Scottish
  2. crossing out British and writing in Yorkshire, Essex etc.
  3. crossing out British and writing in Londoner, Glaswegian etc.
  4. crossing out everything except ‘White’ and annotating it e.g. I’m not British, I’m a London, a white Londoner, one of a dying breed.
  5. the life story. e.g. my mother was Russian, my father is Spanish, his mum lived in Malaysia etc.
  6. the novelty response e.g. ‘I live in my own little world, but it’s alright, they know me there.’
  7. the indignant response e.g. ‘I do not like filling in ethnicity - we are all human beings, whatever creed, colour or race’
  8. the paranoid torrent of abuse e.g. ‘*£$&% you! I will not be spied on by you or anyone else’

As I go through the responses, I’m always alternately fascinated / disturbed about, not just what the responses say about how people feel about national identity, but being asked about it. No one ever complains about questions asking whether they have a disability or not, or even if they live locally, but there is something about the ethnicity question which just touches a nerve with people. And it can’t just be the limiting tick-box categories.

Song of the Week: Incense and Peppermint

August 13th, 2008

??
Incense and Peppermint

No, this track isn’t by some band called ‘??’; I really don’t know who it is. I taped this fantastic (and I think, superior) version of the Strawberry Alarm Clock psych classic off a late night radio programme about 13 years ago, missed the back announcement and have wondered who it was ever since. So if anyone reading this does know, please put me out of my misery.

‘Incense and Peppermint’

You read books?

August 11th, 2008

An excerpt from a conversation between myself and an advertising sales person for a certain well-known free newspaper available in London:

Them: So you read X newspaper?
Me: Actually, I don’t. Not frequently anyway.
Them: You don’t? Do you live in London?
Me: Yes.
Them: And you travel on the tube?
Me: Yes.
Them: And you don’t read X?
Me: No.
Them: Really?
Me: Yes.
Them: You must read Y [well-known rival London freesheet] then?
Me: No, I don’t really read that either.
Them: What do you do on the tube then?
Me: I read my book…
Them: Really… You read books? Well, I guess you could do that… But let me just confirm - you don’t read X?
Me: No.
Them: Or Y?
Me: No.
Them: You read books?
Me: Look, would you just send me your rate card?
Them: Certainly, but you really should read X when you’re next on the tube.

After my experience with the Chancer last week, I’m beginning to feel like I live in an alternative travel universe. Or is reading a book on public transport actually really weird and I just haven’t realised it yet?