Tuesday, January 27, 2009

Dilemma


La falaise a Penarth, le soir, marée basse - Alfred Sisley.

I linked to this painting in a previous post. The coastal scene is not that different today, over a century later. The promontory in the distance is Lavernock Point, a few miles out of Cardiff, one end of the proposed Severn Barrage, linking South Wales to Somerset. According to a front-page article in today's Independent, this will harness the powerful tide of the Severn Estuary to provide 5 per cent of the UK's energy needs.

That's a lot. You can see why the Government are very interested indeed, and why at first glance it makes sense. A wonderfully green scheme. But. But. It will mean the destruction of natural habitats, marshes and mudflats, for thousands of migrating birds, fish and eels. Vague promises are being made that alternative wildlife sanctuaries will be found but the loss will be immense. There are other less damaging options under consideration for harnessing parts of the Estuary - such as the ones put forward by Friends of the Earth, who have come out strongly against the Barrage - but none that deliver this kind of mighty renewable punch. As the Indie says:

There is little doubt that a barrage would destroy more wildlife habitat than any other British construction project in modern times. The Severn Estuary, where the celebrated naturalist Sir Peter Scott founded Slimbridge, the wildfowl refuge which became one of the world's most famous nature reserves, provides an 86,000-acre feeding ground for wild swans, geese and many thousands of wading birds, such as dunlin, turnstone, oystercatcher and ringed plover, from all over Europe.

Under EU wildlife habitat laws, if the Government were to go ahead, it would have to find alternative compensatory habitat – mudflats and marshes – which might be as much as 40,000 acres, and which might cost anything up to £3bn.

But that is unlikely to hold the Government back, such will be the temptation to grab that massive 5 per cent renewable energy boost from a barrage – for in December ministers took on the enormous obligation, in an EU-wide deal, of sourcing 20 per cent of total UK energy demand from renewables by 2020. Twenty per cent of total energy (which includes heating and transport) means finding about 40 per cent of electricity from renewables – nearly 10 times the current figure of about 4.5 per cent.

The Herculean size of that task means the Government is very likely to go for the barrage, especially as the onshore wind industry is suffering strongly from the rise in the euro against the pound, meaning turbines made in Germany and Denmark are now about a third dearer than they were a year ago.


Dilemma. I know the area well and would grieve at its destruction. I am in favour of renewables and clean energy (who isn't?). I distrust the forthcoming Government consultation process and the hidden agendas behind it that quite probably mean that it will be a rubber-stamping of a decision already made. I am a supporter of Friends of the Earth. There is a long way to go and we are currently living through the mother of all recessions and the country may go bankrupt and there will be an election soon. But I suspect the Barrage will be built, eventually.

Sunday, January 25, 2009

Family

Last Sunday afternoon, late. The train is crowded. Luggage everywhere and no seat to be had when I get on at Bristol after a few days at my cousin's place. Not my favourite part of the journey, this, but fortunately it doesn't last long. Twenty minutes at most, then a change. I share the stretch of grimy corridor with a father and two sons. The father, late thirties, jeans, sweatshirt with a logo. The boys maybe ten and eight. The father asks if they are in the way, offers to help me with my suitcase. A Welsh accent. He seems kind.

The two boys chatter, looking out the window, pointing at trains, carriages, signs. Look over there, Dad. Is that the same train we saw at Swansea? It would have to be a very long train if it's the same one, says their father. Laughter. Oh Dad.

The older boy starts to talk to me, unprompted. Quick, darting speech. I notice the bulky dental braces.

"We're going to Maesteg". The Valleys. "We've been to see our cousins in Durham". That's a long way, I say, I did the journey myself a few months ago.

"I know. We've been travelling all day". He turns back towards his brother and the window.

Rail travel may be a novelty for both boys. There is something old fashioned about their excitment and keen interest in everything on the other side of the glass, with nary a computer game or ipod to be seen. I watch them with mixed emotions - happy, wistful, sad, who knows - their lack of cool is very endearing. As is their confidence in each other's company. Their security in being part of a unit.

Newport. The father offers to open the carriage door. People start to board, pushing. Almost dark. Goodbye, I call as I get out. A faint reply is just audible over the blaring cacophony of the station loudspeaker.

Mouse II

An upsetting Friday at the now very part-time and occasional job. The backwash turned yesterday into something of a convalescence. Rest, light housework, repotting plants. Don't think. Follow a gentle routine. Eat properly. Don't think. Drink water. Let it go. Don't think.

Today, feeling stronger, I summoned up the courage to plug in the vertical mouse.

It works. A bit hypersensitive compared with my old mouse, but we'll get used to each other. Ugly and cumbersome, yes, but who cares. As we all know by now, looks aren't everything.

Mouse control is mainly via the hand and fingers. No twisting of the arm. My biceps brachii are cautiously optimistic. Not to mention the acromioclavicular joint and associated muscles and ligaments.

Better days.

Wednesday, January 21, 2009

Diffuse



The Bristol Channel and Severn Bridge from north Somerset.


A blustery wind rushed in from the Atlantic. Diffuse light, muted colours, boundaries between sea and sky and land softened. Studies in blue and grey. The Impressionists would have loved it. (In fact Sisley did paint some later landscapes on the opposite side of the water).



If you can see Wales, according to the locals - tongue in cheek - there's rain on the way. If you can't, then it's already raining. Sure enough a few hours after these were taken the heavens opened.

****

A line is crossed.

Certainties dissolve. Or maybe are distorted by the mists within.

Monday, January 19, 2009

Gargoyles and a Vertical Mouse

Last Monday the new physio diagnosed chronic RSI in the right shoulder. A consequence of a couple of decades of computer work and faulty posture and seating. The latest chapter in an ongoing saga. Remedial exercises three times a day and a course of ultrasound (thank god for the NHS) are prescribed. Most important of all, a limit - a drastic one - on computer time, certainly until the vertical mouse, now on order, arrives. Never heard of a vertical mouse? Neither had I.

Just as well you've stopped full time office work, she said. Lucky too that the injury doesn't much affect the range of movements needed for massage.

I'll be blogging and reading what I can, when I can. Ditto commenting. Want to do more and frustrated that it isn't possible. Face to face with my own limitations yet again - something I resist and resist - and a reminder that no-one (including, especially, me) can do everything and be everywhere.

Strange, I find, how driven behaviour patterns crop up everywhere, including in cyberspace. Laugh at them and they dissolve. But only for a while. They return and sit on your shoulder, whispering in your ear until you laugh and shrug them off. Again. Grotesque, comical gargoyles.

But I will catch up with the blogreading. In due course. Promise.

Tuesday, January 13, 2009

Snapshot



Northern Israel, near the Lebanese border. October 1995. A pit stop. We were warned not to take photographs of the soldiers in the area, there had been incursions across the border and people were jumpy, but this one - so young - seemed open and friendly so I took the risk. I gestured with the camera. Would he mind? He smiled and I pressed the button.

It was what passed for a time of hope, the narrow window of one year between the signing of the Oslo accord between Yasser Arafat and Yitzhak Rabin and the death of that hope by assassination a few weeks later in the November. Even then, in the best of times relatively speaking, there seemed to be little optimism. Just a sense, at least among the Israelis that we met, that it couldn't work out, that the enmity on the other side was too deep. That it would always be like this. We had sat next to a Palestinian doctor on the plane from London to Tel Aviv and he spoke with quiet bitterness about a life in exile. He was equally pessimistic.

****

This isn't a political post about Israel and Gaza, though heaven knows I have my own opinion.

I had a CofE education. These days forgotten snatches of Old Testament verses float back into the memory.

The Lord hardened Pharoah's heart.

He has showed you, O man, what is good. And what does the Lord require of you, but to do justice, and to love mercy and to walk humbly with your God.

A new heart also will I give you, and a new spirit will I put within you: and I will take away the stony heart out of your flesh, and I will give you an heart of flesh.


A hard heart.

Not a refuge, not a defence. Not at all. A place of danger.

Sunday, January 11, 2009

And Then


A farewell speech, a homemade cake, a present. Embarrassed shuffling of feet. Strange, as I will in fact be back working there for a few days towards the end of January, and periodically again after that. And I meet a former colleague for lunch next week and another at yoga class on Tuesdays. Nonetheless it is the closing of a chapter. And a stepping into a void.

I'm lucky. Small pensions kick in over the coming months which will pay just a few of the bills. I have skills, including massage - ostensibly the latter is the reason for leaving a nearly full-time desk job. Pass out cards. Offer tasters. Get a massage or two myself. Do yoga. Speak to people. Prepare the paperwork. More than anything else, trust. Listen for the nudges that indicate a way forward, even if, especially if, it is in a direction I don't expect. Be content to breathe and walk and garden until then. I can temp while I wait.

What of the waiting times? And the uncertainty? That's where life is lived, not in the illusion of plans and goals. More of a challenge when you live alone and there is no-one to chivvy you, and when you tend towards worry.

I want to cultivate both the garden and my friendships.I started working almost immediately when I moved here and have put little effort into finding and nurturing friendships, a community, a tribe. Like work, this takes work.

I need, really need to read more. Much more.

Don't know where the blog and blogging fit into all this, if at all. On verra bien..

Create. Create. Create. Anything.

****

This morning, while I typed, the sky caught fire. The frost has vanished and a west wind is blowing. Beneath the horizon, invisible, a full moon.

Monday, January 5, 2009

Sunday

Should I blog about the new computer and the relief to back and shoulders of not hunching over the laptop and the delight of a proper keyboard? Should I, after watching the news and trying to take in the futility and the suffering? It's the dilemma of personal blogging, the sense that trivia is sometimes just, well, trivia.

****

A solitary female blackbird pecked at the stiffened crusts of bread. Minus 6 degrees yesterday and the frost seems permanent. Low grey cloud. Rock-like soil. The rasp of the scraping of car windscreens. The cat dozing on the sofa. M did indeed install the new computer. A visitor engenders a flurry of tidying up. I made him two cups of tea - milk, one level teaspoon of sugar - and he polished off the plate of Jaffa cakes.

****

Saturn transiting 12th house. A stripping down, a melting away.

****

At one point a robin sang in the rowan tree. The song pierced the silence like an arrow. Clear. Utterly beautiful.