Humpty Dumpty or Brave New World?

The good old Church of England has hit the headlines today with dire warnings of the possible consequences of the Government's proposals to introduce "equal marriage" (known popularly as gay marriage). I had taken the trouble to send in a personal response to the consultation and so had spent some time reflecting on my views. I was quite surprised by my thoughts.

I found I was more worried by governmental redefinition of language than by homosexual fidelity. Promiscuity of all sorts is emphatically and fatally corrosive both of persons and of society. However couples of the same sex have long lived together and been accepted. When I was a boy, my parents took us to visit my father's cousin, Sheila who farmed in Kingsland, Herefordshire, with her friend, Mary Elliott, whom she'd met at a bull sale in 1944. They bred Royal Show champion Kerry Hill sheep, which I enjoyed photographing with my Kodak Brownie camera. It didn't occur to me that Sheila and Mary's domestic arrangement was odd, nor did it occur to my parents to comment on it. Sheila ends her book The Happy Farmers (Logaston Press, 1989) honestly and rather movingly: "Small children have called us 'The Happy Farmers'. I think that few farmers can be entirely happy in their life of incessant struggle with weather, markets and disease; while few in old age can be happy with the aches and pains, the ills and accidents, the diminishing powers and (for me) the haunting fear of the future. But we are happy in our home, our friends and our love, so maybe we have earned that touching title."

It is a shame, in my view, that same-sex friendship is now regarded as sexual (and so for some as vicious or intrinsically "immoral"). Friendship is actually admirable. Faithfulness is a virtue. Promises of commitment are meant to cement marriages. The same is true, I imagine, for civil partnerships.

There is a fundamental question about the purpose of marriage, and of sex, which lies beneath the debate. It used to be said that the first purpose of marriage was the procreation of children, then as a remedy against sin (i.e. an appropriate outlet for sex), and third for mutual society for each other. Now in the contemporary CofE marriage service the order's reversed, with companionship as number 1. Most "conservatives", I'd guess, object to gay marriage because they see it as a charter for "unnaturalness". There's an ironic conjunction between fundamentalists and Darwinians in the view that the sole purpose of sex is procreation and the preservation of the species. In that case there is no place for sex merely to provide pleasure, either heterosexually or homosexually. That logic leads either to celibacy within marriage or to procreation for as long as hormones or life allow. Somehow I can't see our consumerist society buying that. It is a pity that our society sets such a store on the sexual acts that close companionship has become such a bone of contention.

My comment to the consultation was sent in the aftermath of the Queen's Diamond Jubilee. I was ruminating on the nature of the monarchy. What, I wondered, would we call an elected constitutional head of state? They might fulfil precisely the same roles as the present queen. However, without a doubt, they wouldn't be called Queen or King. Traditionally hereditary heads of state have been named kings and queens. We'd give a different name to an elected one, such as president. They have the same functions, but they're crucially different. Traditionally marriage has been between a man and a woman. We'd give a different name to a same-partnership - wouldn't we? They're the same, but they're crucially different. 

Language in this country does not change by government dictat, but by usage and evolution. I can't work out whether the government is indulging in Brave New World social engineering, or whether it's merely become Humpty Dumpty:
"`When I use a word,' Humpty Dumpty said in rather a scornful tone, `it means just what I choose it to mean - neither more nor less.' 
`The question is,' said Alice, `whether you can make words mean so many different things.' 
`The question is,' said Humpty Dumpty, `which is to be master - that's all.' "
Humpty Dumptyish redefinition of language sits rather uncomfortably with a government set on teaching our children the traditional skills of times tables, learning poetry by heart and mugging up on the solar system. They'd better beware, as every child knows the fate of Humpty Dumpty (unless they go to the PC nursery which, I learned today, has him landing safely on a bungee rope...). If you asked me for an alternative generic word, the best I could come up with is "union".

In fact, I have long been attracted to the French wedding system, as I understand it, where everyone has a civil ceremony, and those who choose proceed to a church ceremony afterwards. However, I also have sympathy for the CofE's mistrust of the European courts. Although they have ruled to respect religious freedom, because of the established nature of the Church here it's reasonable to suspect that discrimination legislation might be deemed to trump religious independence. The Church is NOT independent from the State here. It might have to face the difficult decision to cut its ties.

"Mea culpa?"

George Osborne, Chancellor of the Exchequer, has written a letter to The Sunday Telegraph today. In it he says, "Our recovery - already facing powerful headwinds from high oil prices and the debt burden left behind by the boom years - is being killed off by the crisis on our doorstep." The response from Shadow Chancellor, Ed Balls, was predictable: "It's deeply complacent and out of touch for George Osborne to blame Europe for a double-dip recession made in Downing Street. He will fool nobody with these increasingly desperate excuses."


Déjà entendu? Don't you remember the Labour Government saying our economic woes were all the fault of the American sub-prime market and the bankers? It's really not our fault, they said. Of course the Tory Opposition repeatedly asserted that the deficit was actually the result of the government's irresponsible stewarding of public finances. Of course it was their fault, they told us.


Life's not that simple. It's not black and white. No wonder so many people feel like Mercutio, dying because of the ancient feud between the Montagues and Capulets - "a plague o' both your houses"! If the consequences weren't so serious for the people in the middle, we might write it off as "Punch and Judy politics". However there are casualties - from the young unemployed with little prospect of finding a job, to the genuine disabled facing cuts in their support. And of course there's the cost of people's faith (and interest) in politics.


This coming week our political leaders will be in the spotlight in front of Lord Justice Leveson. I don't suppose the modus operandi of their politics will be focused on. Perhaps Her Majesty might have a word, when she has a chance after her strenuous week. She might remind them of the New Testament reading from her St Paul's service on Tuesday which was read by the Prime Minister: "Live in harmony with one another. Do not be haughty, but associate with the lowly. Never be wise in your own sight. Repay no one evil for evil, but give thought to do what is honourable in the sight of all. If possible, so far as it depends on you, live peaceably with all." Did she choose it deliberately? I wonder.

Royal reflections

I'm sorry. I think this will do me good - a sort of therapy; and if I'm lucky, if I can get it out of my system, it will save Jane from having to put up with a somewhat cynical husband for another day. It may lose me some friends, but there we are; you win some, you lose some....

My problem is this. All this hooha over the Queen's Diamond Jubilee has been getting to me. As readers of this blog will be aware, I admire HRH immensely; I take some pleasure in having passed Prince Charles once or twice going to lectures on the Sidgwick Site in Cambridge (and personally I don't think he's as potty as his detractors try to make us believe); and I admit to having been thoroughly seduced by last year's royal couple. However yesterday in church we had a short video compilation of the coronation and, I am sorry, I saw the rows of ermine, that gaudy coach and all the ceremony (highly symbolic, I know) of gold, and crowns, sceptre, sword of state etc etc, and I thought, "Surely, please, we're not going to repeat all that in a few years' time, are we?" And the answer was of course a resounding affirmative. And next time the media juggernaut will roll into action with even greater hyperboles. The national anthem was sung at the end of the service: "Long live our noble Queen... send her victorious... long to reign over us..." - and I had heretical thoughts, such as, "Is it fair to pray that she'll get very old? Or to ask that she'll never be allowed to enjoy a retirement? And whom exactly do we want her to fight and beat?" At least the verse about frustrating her enemies' knavish tricks was left out.

Wantage Market Place festivities with the "Rockits"

No, it's not her majesty that's been getting under my skin. Neither is it communities coming together for celebrations. I think street parties like village festivals (of which Stanford's is a good example) are excellent occasions, bringing people out from their houses worshipping their one-eyed gods in the corner (or on the wall if it's a big-screen plasma one) and reminding them that they have a lot of neighbours who are human and indeed quite nice. Jane and I went yesterday to Wantage Market Place, where about 4000 people had been in spite of the rain, and this afternoon we sauntered down to Grove Rugby ground where there was a panoply of entertainments and stalls and many more people enjoying the sunshine. I understand these cost ratepayers nothing, unlike nearby Abingdon which had budgeted £50,000 for their weekend.

It's not even the money, however, that's made me reflect, although the message of lavish spending to celebrate the unusual length of a queen's reign should create pause for thought in a period of austerity when most people are being forced to economise and many are without jobs. We're told that the cost of the celebrations is being met by private donors - though that is clearly not the case, as Abingdon illustrates, and when such things as heightened security and additional policing, fly-pasts, broadcasting etc are factored in. But the message is still there, loud and clear, money can be found for some purposes after all - just not for the most disadvantaged. I heard someone on the radio this morning defending the expense by saying, "For once, can't we forget about bread, and give them circuses? We need both...".

I suppose that's the question. Has the monarchy just become a circus to entertain the hungry masses? Is that its real function? I don't presume to know the Queen's personal views, though we are told that if history hadn't lined her up for the throne she'd have chosen a quiet life in the country with horses and dogs. All the more credit to her for fulfilling her role of service to the country with such faithfulness. However all the pomp and circumstance, all the traditional razzmatazz, all the extravagance of the "court" could be regarded as circus entertainment, which is of course how the media treat it, when all the pseudo deference is stripped away. I'm left wondering not so much whether we want a monarchy, but whether we want a celebrity-style royal family, frozen in theme-park aspic.

My intelligent friends abroad had interesting reactions to the weekend. Mark, an Englishman in Sydney, commented: "So glad I'm in Australia, there is only so much of the Union Jack I can cope with..... And I've seen too much on Facebook alone!!" It's not that he's unpatriotic; but I think he is tired by jingoism and our constant apparent need to "big ourselves up" (to use the unpleasant but vivid modern expression), often at the expense of others. Jeannie in New York when I mentioned the Jubilee weekend commented that she was "not into the 'queen'" (by which I think she meant monarchy show), but she had been "a Diana fan", and she "likes Prince Charles's environmental stuff". Such a balanced assessment was refreshing to read after all the uncritical adulation or unthinking antagonism which occupied the airwaves of the BBC at times. I asked a Dutch friend who lives in the UK, "Do we REALLY do royalty so well? I know we do it expensively; but it seems to me we do it extravagantly. Should we go Dutch? I can't believe you're so prodigal. (NB I think good Queen Bess 2nd does royalty very well.)" She agreed that Britain could manage its monarchy at a much more modest cost, and that the Netherlands manage a constitutional monarchy with far more simplicity, "properly rooted in the Dutch calvinist tradition, sense of duty and profound awareness of God's grace."


It was interesting for me to read about the Dutch monarchy, and also to google pictures of Dutch royal ceremonies. Pictures of pageants and pomp are strikingly missing. Only Queen Beatrix and her consort, and the heir apparent and his are paid stipends (linked to the civil service's rate). The rest of the extensive royal family have to earn their own living. I seem to remember her mother, Queen Juliana, used a bicycle. The queen is provided with one official residence and one work palace. For state occasions there's the Old Palace in Amsterdam, which open to the public at other times. This unshowy royal family have between 85 and 83% approval rating. According to Jenni Bond, the former BBC royal correspondent, our Queen's approval rating in the polls is 80% (Radio 5 this morning), when she's never been more loved. From which I conclude that all the flim-flam industry with which we surround our monarchy is dispensable. (And please don't give me the tired and irrelevant "It's good for the tourist industry" line!)


I tuned in to a heated exchange on Radio 5 Live this morning, including one Dicky Arbiter, once the Queen's press secretary and now public speaker. I think it was him that made a comment, to justify monarchy, that seven of the most stable democracies have monarchies, by which I guess he meant Belgium, Denmark, Norway, the Netherlands, Spain, Sweden and the United Kingdom. For some reason he didn't mention states like Saudi Arabia, Brunei, Swaziland, Omar, Dubai, Qatar, Morocco, Bahrain etc. I'm sorry. It's empty arguments like that which make me consider democracies such as Ireland which elects its impressive non-executive head of state. However for the moment I'm grateful for ITV4 which has been showing the diverting French Open Tennis, which has provided welcome relief from saturation coverage of plastic-flag-waving jubilifications. And to be honest, I am more grateful and full of admiration for the woman standing alone in the centre of this picture, while at the same time I wish her husband a speedy recovery.

from Huffington Post

DIY SOS

She warned me, and she was right. Rachel said I'd cry if I watched it, and I did. It was last week's episode of BBC's DIY SOS called "The big build - Enfield". It was about Eric Rivers who has a rapid form of MND and his wife Davina and their three children. It was obviously filmed last November. Their home is a two-bedroomed terrace in Enfield. Their youngest daughter had to sleep in her parents' bedroom, and all of them were grieving for a family life of which Eric's MND had already robbed them.

The programme showed the DIY SOS team moving in, supported by a massive outpouring of goodwill from local tradesmen and love from their friends, and transforming their home in just over a week. His daughters had said the priority was to make their home good for their dad. In the event, the team created an extra bedroom in the loft and a dining room extension on the back. Like us they made a wet-room and put in a through-floor lift. Eric's repeated statement was "the greatest gift we have is time" - and that's what the SOS team had given him - more time to enjoy with his family. Unfortunately it's too late now to see the programme on iPlayer, but you can see short extracts and more about it here: Clips from Enfield.

The Rivers experience a problem shared by many families plunged into MND or other disability - finding their home quite unsuitable for their rapidly disabled member. Most families don't have an incredibly persistent friend who tweats the BBC and the presenter until they agree to refurbish their house completely - not that anyone would begrudge the Rivers' family the help they received one tiny bit. In fact one's glad for all the good fortune and help that others receive. We were fortunate enough ourselves to have been given sufficient capital to adapt our home before we moved in. Most people are struggling to get adaptations done while they're in situ and as their needs constantly increase. Yesterday we went to Bicester Garden Centre for a meeting our local MND Association branch. There were lots of us there. We met a couple who were having to sell their family home to move into a flat, while another of our friends was faced with dismantling adaptations and a wet-room which an incompetent contractor had messed up and failed to complete before his wife had died of MND.

Our area is well supported by the Oxford MND Centre, but many areas are not so well served - which makes it all the more important that there should be a nationwide provision, not only for MND, but also for the other progressive neurological conditions, such as ataxia and muscular dystrophy, which no one expects and for which no one is prepared. Most people do not have the luxury of time of which I have been given much. As Eric Rivers said, in situations such as his, "the greatest gift we have is time". Let's give people like him, as much quality time as possible. It will be an incalculable present.

More hospital visits

We began this week with my annual visit to the MND Clinic at the John Radcliffe in Oxford, followed by Jane going for a CT scan to check her collar-bone. In order to find where the latter was in the hospital, I looked on the hospital website - and who should I see smiling out at me, but our friends from Stanford, John and Jean Dudley. John last year died of cancer. Jean was a nurse. They were a lovely and brave couple, who had been through a lot in their lives. It was good to see that tribute to John in his latter days.

Once again our experience on Monday in both departments was excellent. At the MND Clinic, having checked in, we were greeted by a senior MNDA visitor who then went to tell the consultant. The personal touch was nice. Our wait for Dr Turner was negligible. It was my first visit to him. He, I think, is the PLS expert for the area. A good chat with him and some useful information, and then it was on to Rachael Marsden who is the coordinating MND nurse. She measured my puff - which I thought was pathetic - and we chatted again. Then came the trek through the malls of the West Wing and the corridors of the old hospital. When we found the CT department, they didn't have Jane clocked in on their computer, but no matter. We were ushered in to the small full waiting room. The CT assistant knew her stuff - and Jane was actually in and out before her appointment time. And so we were heading for the car. Not a bad morning courtesy of the NHS.

However, I have to admit, the previous week was another story - which wouldn't have mattered had we gone prepared with reading matter. Jane had her check-up at the fracture clinic. A couple of months earlier we'd been in and out in 20 minutes. This time, the x-ray was quick, but then came the wait, and the wait... which wouldn't have mattered had I not had an appointment two and a half hours later to see the OT about that wheelchair in Didcot. I have to say Jenny, the OT, was very forgiving about my being half an hour late - and also brilliant with her advice, which was that that particular variant was no good for me. She redeemed the NHS that afternoon. And to give the fracture clinic their due we gathered most of the doctors were in theatre. You can't control people's accidents.

Everyone a winner

It's been quite a good couple of weekends for teams which our family variously support. Outstanding for me was the victory of our local Formula 1 team, Williams F1, who are based in Grove, at the Spanish Grand Prix in Barcelona. I got quite animated! Our Manchester family are City supporters. I suspect they were on tenterhooks last Sunday, when it looked as though their team was about to lose to QPR - a close shave, I think you might say. And we have a long-term faithful Chelsea fan. His comment about last night's match was: "In reality football is a pretty meaningless game but right now?! Right now, I've never loved it more." (And, all right, I admit that getting rid of their previous manager may have proved a good move. It will be interesting to see what Roman Abramovich does with his most successful "caretaker manager", Roberto di Matteo.)  


Life's not only sport of course. Sport may be pretty meaningless (though it's arguable that it's a harmless sublimation of international or internal aggression), but to be really good at it does require a lot of hard work. I was interested by an item by Matthew Syed on Radio 4, where he argued that champions are not born, but made. He has five times Commonwealth table tennis champion and is now a sports writer for The Times. He wrote a book, Bounce - How Champions are made, of which you get a taste in the YouTube clip: Matthew Syed talking. It's certainly true that artists like the young cellist Laura van der Heijden achieve their level of accomplishment by dint of a great deal of practice. Her final performance for BBC Young Musician achieved something remarkable, holding me to listen and enjoy a piece way outside my comfort zone, Walton's Cello Concerto. And I'm sure, on a much less serious level, Pudsey's performance on BGT involved a lot of hard work on Ashleigh's part. (By the way, looking at Laura's website and the age at which she clearly outstanding, I don't think Matthew Syed's thesis is 100% correct.)

from ITV

from Laura's website

Left: Laura van der Heijden who won BBC Young Musician of the Year 2012 Right: Ashleigh Butler with her mongrel Pudsey who won ITV's Britain's Got Talent 2012

from Williams F!

 Left: Pastor Maldonado who won the Spanish Grand Prix last week for our local team, Williams F1.

from Manchester City

Right: Roberto Mancini, manager of Manchester City, who won the Premier League last Sunday - by the skin of their teeth.

from BBC

from Yahoo

 Left: Helen Jenkins who emphatically won the World Triathlon Series (swim, cycle, run) in San Diego on Saturday, as did Jonny Brownlee. By the way, local girl Jessica Harrison, who now competes for France, came fourth. Right: Didier Drogba, man of the match, for Chelsea who remarkably won the European Champions League Cup last night - by the skin of their teeth. He scored the decisive penalty in the penalty shoot-out. The picture shows him comforting Bastian Schweinsteiger, who missed the last penalty for Bayern Munich. Previously he'd done the same for Arjen Robben (also in the picture), whose penalty in extra time could have won it for Bayern. 


Sometimes he is traduced for acting on the pitch. There's no doubt in my mind that he's an exceptional striker. Before watching the match I hadn't perceived much more. I had noticed that his first reaction when he's scored a goal is to cross himself. During the final, I observed him on his knees in the penalty shoot-out, but most significantly for me was the way, while the rest of his team were absorbed in their own delirium of celebration, he was aware of their opponents' bitter disappointment and took time to show it. And he really did give them time. My estimation of him as a big man rose. It seemed to me that his faith might make a difference.

The disabled to get their Pips squeezed

from Uffington Post

I receive Disability Living Allowance, free of tax and not means-tested, which consists of two components: a) mobility, and b) personal care. At the moment I receive the maximum (of 3) bands for mobility, as I can't walk unaided or drive. That allowance is all used by Motability from whom we lease our car, which we have in order to carry my wheelchair, rollator, and all the clobber associated with my PLS. In due course, when I can no longer manage the passenger seat, it will go towards a roll-on-roll-off version. I have only the middle band of the personal care component as I can still feed myself, wash and toilet myself (given some preparatory help from Jane. Actually I can't pull up and fasten my trousers once they're down!).  The DLA is a great help, as it compensates for a number of extra expenses incurred by my disabled state.

I was advised to apply for it by my physio when my MND really made itself felt. The form is not excessively complex, but asks quite specific questions. It relies on self-assessment and therefore honesty (although I seem to remember having to give details of my health professionals such as doctors, with permission for the Department of Work and Pensions to contact them for verification).

The Government has plans to replace this benign compensation for disability with a new idea, PIPs, Personal Independence Payments, with the aim of cutting the cost (approx. £12 billion and rising) by up to £2.24 billion. It will mean reassessing 2 million claimants with the aim (or hope) of pruning out 500,000. Iain Duncan-Smith, Secretary of State for Work and Pensions, is the man entrusted with handling this sensitive issue. The PM must hope he'll present it with more skill then the Budget fiasco. 

His first attempt, to the Torygraph, as reported in the Huffington Post, is a curate's egg.

"Duncan Smith told the Daily Telegraph: 'We are creating a new benefit, because the last benefit grew by something like 30% in the past few years. It's been rising well ahead of any other gauge you might make about illness, sickness, disability or for that matter, general trends in society.

"'A lot of that is down to the way the benefit was structured so that it was very loosely defined. Second thing was that in the assessment, lots of people weren't actually seen. Third problem was lifetime awards. Something like 70% had lifetime awards, (which) meant that once they got it you never looked at them again. They were just allowed to fester.'

"Duncan Smith defended the reforms which could see people without limbs, including ex-servicemen and women, no longer entitled to disability benefits as their everyday mobility is not undermined by their prosthetic limbs.

"He told the Daily Telegraph: 'It's not like incapacity benefit, it's not a statement of sickness. It is a gauge of your capability. In other words, "Do you need care, do you need support to get around?". Those are the two things that are measured. Not, "You have lost a limb".'

"Ministers are consulting on the new eligibility criteria for the disability benefit system which will be announced in the autumn."

Much of that seems to me reasonable. It's reasonable to want to keep a check on the validity of the initial claims; it's reasonable to keep a weather-eye on their continuing validity. It's true that medical technology can restore people to independent living and it's reasonable that the cost of that technology should be offset by savings on DLA. But there will be additional costs in the task of 2 million reassessments (carried out by GPs or more probably specially employed assessors). And to my recollection the benefit was not "very loosely defined"; in fact the questions were very specific, such as how far could I walk unaided, and could I dress myself, could I cook for myself, shower unaided etc. What I'm dubious about is whether my GP or consultant were ever asked to confirm my answers. (It may be that MND is recognised as a severely disabling condition.) 

I am, every year, at the same time as being informed about the monthly rate, told that I must report any change which might affect my award. It wouldn't be very hard for the DWP to contact my GP to check, if they wanted to. It would probably be cheaper to do that across the board than to set up an entirely new system with a large number of new assessors. 

Bishop: "I'm afraid you've got a bad egg, Mr Jones";
Curate: "Oh, no, my Lord, I assure you that parts of it are excellent!"
"True Humility" by George du Maurier, originally published in Punch, 1895.

I suppose the most rotten part of the curate's egg is the sentence, "They were just allowed to fester." I'm sorry, I'm sure, that the minister regards allowances such as mine as a running sore, a festering wound in the body politic. I can assure him that most disabled people would prefer not to be a burden on the state; in fact they'd prefer to be sound in wind and limb. But it's quite nice to know we're not forgotten and that someone once cared enough to set up a system which, even if it can't erase, can at least ease the experience of disability. 

I sincerely hope that the new PIPs have the same humanity at their heart. (I tried to find pictures of IDS with disabled people, in vain - I wonder why - with the exception of the one above; at least I'm assuming the seated man is disabled - as it's from the Royal British Legion's website. However I did find this one from My Marilyn blogspot, which satirizes my hope....) Will its scepticism proves unfounded? Will the Secretary of State turn out to have the heart of Florence Nightingale?