Keeping the home campfires burning

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April fools under canvas
Sunlit striking
Followed by lightning
Humans huddle
Around a smoky campfire
Back to basics
Hot and cold comforts
Austerity Britain
Keeping afloat with the Joneses
Unseasonal camping confirms
Keeping warm
With friends and family
Is all.

Despite my diffidence, we were early out of the traps for camping this year. Forecasts (realised) of thunder storms and temperatures of 2 degrees C were enough to deter six out of seven families on our first night – but not us.

Joined at midnight by family number two and then plucky three and four on the second day, it was initially very wet, then cold, then bright and breezy. In a man-made return to pre-history, a fire makes it bearable.

And once the kids are off to bed, with a glass of something warming in hand, there’s a camaraderie about camping which brings out the best in people. Everyone’s struggling a bit in this recession, but we’re keeping the home and camp fires burning.

Competitive Dad

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Competitive Dad
Get your fleece off honey!
Competitive Dad
Get your hands in the air!
Competitive Mum
Get in tighter!
Competitive Mum
Get your hands in there!
Bemused Daughter
Alright, alright!
Bemused Daughter
Would you both stand over there.

Our standard position is “We’re not really competitive people in our house”. But the missus and my behaviour yesterday put a dent in that theory. I found myself the only adult shouting at my daughter’s end of term school netball completion, except for… my other half.

It’s the first time in my life I’ve attended a competitive team sporting fixture in which my daughter was playing. And what an extraordinary experience that is. I was rooting for her, so much I couldn’t stand still and certainly couldn’t help trying to catch her eye and shouting advice at her.

I need to learn from my own Dad: arrive without fanfare, be present, then quietly disappear.

Daubing

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I read a while ago that physicists were arguing over the wisdom of analysing the complete dataset from the latest probe which is measuring the cosmic microwave background radiation.

Why? Because from it we will soon have all the data it is possible for us to have on the origins of the universe. And if we analyse it all, we will have closed the book of history on our ultimate origins – there will be nothing more for future generations of physicists to know.

I was reminded of this by a lively conversation on the history of Western Art the other day. I’ve recently bought myself a primer which takes you from cave paintings to cubism and contemporary modern art.

In the early pages, just how small the sliver is, of what survives from antiquity, becomes obvious. There are no paintings, often no original statues and incredibly few fragments from entire cities, kingdoms and civilisations. The ‘cosmic background radiation’ of western culture is largely mapped. What we have is probably all there is.

But although only a fragment, it has been a treasure trove down the centuries. In the writings of Montaigne, his many references to Plutarch, Seneca, Horace et al were the ‘classical education’ which in his time (or in fact slightly before it as he lamented) were the gold standard. A Renaissance man who knew his ‘Greats’, knew everything that was worth knowing.

Paraphrasing Wikipedia, perhaps there is still something to be said for ‘Philo’s Rule’ of ‘classical education’: preserving those words and ideas which impart intellectual and aesthetic appreciation of “the best, which has been thought and said in the world”.

For the polymath, history is the easiest framework on which to hang intellectual curiosity. The past is finite. But, unlike the cosmic background radiation, the arrow of time for the living is forwards – at least for a few decades.

So, I think there’s a balance to strike between a good investment in “the best” that has been thought, said and painted, and keeping abreast of the ephemera of today. History has winnowed and filtered, but it has also carelessly and randomly mulched, ignored and forgotten.

Time marches on. And who knows which of today’s ‘cave paintings’ will be remembered 10,000 years from now. Daubing is as important as appreciating the daubing of others.

Botch Job

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Garden fencing
Ageing woodwork
Down comes the fence post
On a cold winter’s day
Sent out to repair it
With red hands
And blue notes
Patched up
Lashed up
Botched-up repairs

Cats promenading
Balancing on my fence post
Off comes the trellis
From my botched-up repairs

First day of sunshine
Sent to have another go
Drill bits
Rawl plugs
New screws and old
Ugly repair job
Patched up
Lashed up
Botched-up repairs

Were he still alive, my Dad’s Dad would have been proud of this one. A notorious botcher, he fashioned the ideal (for him) lifestyle accompaniment from an orange box, plywood, screws and nails.

A footstool-cum-occasional-table, its four sides held his betting slips, racing tips, pools coupons and newspaper as well as being a handy place to rest a cuppa. Splinters and gaudy fruit trademarks were the real drawbacks. But he was happy with it.

I can’t really say the same for my botch job – 8 different screw types, restraining stays which neither match nor fit and none of which are quite true. The old man’s genes have reached through time. But he’d have a good chuckle at a proper botch job.

Austerity Bites

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When consumption ist verboten
And thrift the prevailing notion
The impulse to buy
Needs must, goodbye.
Instead, re-find and reuse
Rediscover making do.
So I’m mending instead of spending.
Austerity the incentive
To be creative and inventive.
But I do kinda miss
Consumer spending bliss.

Times is hard and money’s tight. Perhaps for the first time in my adult life I’m facing up to a future where, looking forward, our household income will likely be flat or fall. It plays with your head this kind of thing.

Of course compared to many I’ve nothing to complain about. But we have all been raised on the notion that, in the words of the ’90s anthem: ‘Things can only get better‘.

Well of course they can. And it’s a failure of imagination to seek happiness in ‘things’. But as I said to the missus today, I quite fancy a new pair of shoes, but I feel I shouldn’t.

This is how recessions work – they knock your confidence. Last week I was enjoying inventing new ways to save money. This week I’m sad ‘cos I simply fancy some new stuff.

No more browsing Amazon buying gadgets for kitchen and home. No more warm winter coats – why do I like buying warm winter coats? It’s recycle and re-use, repair and re-wear. Harrumph. I’ve had enough of austerity this week.