Farewell 2008

I've had better years.

I spent the first half of this year in Sheffield, one of my favourite cities in the UK, almost totally broke for most of the time and having to deal with several people I will never get on with on a daily basis.

I then returned to Edinburgh for a week's work experience at the evening newspaper there. My stay was extended for a month and I was told there was a good chance of it becoming a permanent position. However, it did not. A few weeks later the publishing company laid off about 30 people after seeing its half-year results - perhaps indicating why the permanent job didn't materialise.

After that I had an interview in Cumbria, again one of my favourite places in the UK, and was turned down for the job because I didn't bring "greater balance to our [the newspaper's] existing team." I have my own opinion on what that means, essentially that the newspaper wasn't prepared to hire a white, heterosexual male.

One month and several unsuccessful applications later, I landed a job at The Northern Scot in Elgin, a beautiful, if isolated, place in Morayshire. After I got this job I knocked back one interview in Dumfriesshire and a second interview in Dundee.

I wasn't to start until November 17 due to the office having to be rearranged to accommodate me. Then on November 12 I got a phone call from the editorial director of the Scot's publisher saying they had had poor half-year results and they couldn't afford to pay me. So for the second time in three months I had, in modern parlance, been credit crunched.

And with this happening just before Christmas, job vacancies were harder to find than a polar bear in a coke shower and I was too late to cancel cancelling my second interview in Dundee.

And so I find myself in my mid-twenties blogging on Hogmanay in a room in my parents' house (having run out of money after Edinburgh), working in a bar and totally unsure about my future.

Given the current circumstances we find ourselves in, both as a country and as a planet, I am grateful that I at least have a job and am at least not financially unstable.

Nevertheless I feel unbelievably frustrated at my current plight. Next year has to be one of change for me. Perhaps I may even have to abandon my journalistic ambitions for a different career.

I hope and pray that next Hogmanay my blogging is as cheery as this post has been whiney.

Happy New Year.

Still in the Brown stuff

No journalistic cliché has bothered me so much recently as the phrase "Brown bounce" which seems to have appeared in every newspaper and on every TV news reports in the last couple of weeks.

Similarly, after labour's Glenrothes by-election win last week that fat, smug Labour-luvvie Brian Taylor could hardly contain his glee talking about how the victory signalled support for Gordy in these recession-hit times.

My problem with this cliché? It is complete nonsense.

Jackie Ashley wrote an excellent article on why in The Guardian this week stating that when the recession really bites with factory closures, job losses and home repossessions the electorate will not see Brown as the economic genius/international leader/Messiah many portray him as just now.

I would go further than Ashley and say that despite this recent upsurge in popularity nothing has really changed for Brown. Indeed what we are seeing at the moment is very recent history repeating.

After his statesmanlike response the the 7/7 bombings in London in 2005 and playing a key part in winning London the 2012 Olympics Tony Blair gained his best media coverage for years with many proclaiming: "Blair is back."

It all turned out to be nonsense. Blair was still a lame duck Prime Minister whose party was dissatisfied with him and whose obvious successor was determined to undermine him.

The terrorist attacks of 7/7 and the Olympics played to his strengths - it allowed him to talk about a grand international issue (terrorism and the importance of defeating it) and to claim success for bringing the biggest show on Earth to his country's capital city.

Within weeks people had forgotten about this and he was back fighting to continue with his political life.

Gordon Brown has fallen on a similar fortune with the current economic downturn. He managed the economy for 10 years as Chancellor, feels most comfortable talking about economic matters and knows the key players in world economics personally.

However, he is still an over-cautious, indecisive and, frankly, weird man who is incapable of dealing with issues in a way that comes across well to the public. Prime Minister's Questions this week was a pertinent reminder of Brown's fundamental weaknesses as a political leader.

That Labour now seem to be behind Brown is a good thing. The constant talk of leadership bids was destabilising to the country. Those whingers who were trying to stab him in the back seem to have realaised that Brown is the only Labour MP who could be leader - a sad inditement on the dearth of talent in the present Cabinet but a truism nonetheless.

But Labour should not be fooled into thinking they are back to the good old days. Firms are beginning to shed jobs, money is tight and the public is beginning to get angry. None of this bodes well for them heading into an election in the next 18 months.

I personally have been a victim of the recession twice this year and I am in no mood to congratulate Labour at the ballot box.

And I know I'm not alone.

Good luck and Thanks

Yes, I know, I have had yet another prolonged break from blogging. Since I last posted I have been working split shifts and am usually asleep for good chunks of the day, hence blogging has been difficult.

Anyway, to the events of the day:

Congratulations to Barrack Obama, thenext President of the USA. There are moments in time that signify a major change in the way the world works. 9/11 was the most memorable of my 25 years. Tony Blair's win in 1997 was another, less tragic, example. I have the same feeling about Obama's win yesterday. Much is expected of him. I am sure he will not live up to all his expectations but I wish him luck, he is going to need it.

I would also like to congratulate Lewis Hamilton, Felipe Massa and everyone involved in Formula One this season. The championship was decided at the last corner of the last lap of the last race - a suitable end to a truly fantastic season. Hamilton is a deserved champion and I'm sure we have not heard the last of Massa. Roll on 2009.

Sebastian Vettel - what a guy!

Sebastian Vettel yesterday became the yongest ever winner of a Formaula One race when he took the chequered flag at the Italian Grand Prix.

What makes Vettel's win even more remarkable is that he won driving a Torro Rosso. This team is one of the smallest in the field and is the modern incarnation of the woeful Minardi team that lagged at the back of races for all of its F1 life.

This achievement shows that the 21-year-old Vettel is truly a great F1 talent who is sure to be a challenger for race wins and titles in the future. Congratulations to him.

Not so long ago his victory would have made him unique but fortunately he is now just one major talent in a sport full of them.

You may remember in my last post about F1 that I was enthused by the fact that Robert Kubica had won his first race. Since then McLaren's Heikki Kovalainnen has won his first race and with Vettel winning yesterday it means three drivers have had a maiden victory this season.

There are now twelve drivers on the grid who have won grand prix, more than half of the drivers racing this season. What's more, eight of these twelve are under thirty and could have at least ten years racing to go before they leave the sport.

I said it in my last F1 post but I mean it even more now, F1 is back as a competetive sport. Even though Mclaren and Ferrari still have a clear advantage over the other teams in terms of budgets and resources this season has proved that they can no longer carve out the races between themselves and will have to earn each new victory.

F1 is then in the best health its been in since the era of Prost, Senna, et al. In my mind, four things need to happen to take F1 from this to optimum health:

1. Fernando Alonso needs a decent car - He is still the best driver in F1 and should be pushing for victories. Hoppefully Renault will improve his package for next season.

2. Toyota need to keep developing - They have come on enormously this year. Jarno Trulli and Timo Glock are both excellent drivers who deserve their chance at a title shot.

3. Williams need to get good again - They are the only team in the paddock now that exists solely for F1. It is good for F1 when born racers are among the best teams. Nico Rosberg is also an excellent driver who could make the field even more comepetive.

4. Jenson Button needs a good car - This is probably my most contentious point. Jenson has many critics who accuse him of being too much of a playboy and not hungry enough for victory. However, in the past when he has had a decent car he has shown himself to be a very competetive driver. I'd like to see him in a decent car to see if he is as good as his best performances suggest. And if he is, the idea of two British drivers fighting it out for wins is mouth-watering.

The Gray Man Enters

Today Scottish Labour got its new leader, Iain Gray.

Labour are in a mess in Scotland. They are losing votes all over the place to the SNP and, in some places, the Tories.

Typically Labour leaders are local government place-men from the Glasgow area so their members deserve some credit for electing an East Coaster who has worked outside of politics for most of his life.

This shows signs that Labour is realising it needs to change its ideas if it is to play a meaningful part in Scottish politics over the next three years.

Sadly Gray shows few signs of wanting to move the party on, at least if his acceptance speech is anything to go by. In it he criticised Alex Salmond (the fat, bandwagon-jumping First Miniter of Scotland) for going to St. Andrews University and working as an economist while he was out in the schemes teaching poor children and then working for Oxfam in Mozambique - presumably to show up a 'man of the people' image.

Gray was educated at George Watson's College and Edinburgh University, two of the poshest educational institutions in Scotland. Teaching is a respected, professional job with good, if not great, pay. Gray is no more a man of the people (whatever that phrase means in the modern world) than Salmond.

These were mute points to his audience who lavished him with applause.

When will Scottish Labour realise that they are as middle-class as every other party in the Scottish Parliament?

Hopefully Gray will do so soon. Ultimately, the people of Scotland want an opposition leader who holds the Executive to account, not one who devotes his time to pretending to be one of the workers.

George II - Hero

A little praise here for George Burley, possibly the best thing to happen to Scottish football for some time.

Walter Smith and Alex McLeish did a great job at rebuilding the side and we had an excellent run in the Euro 2008 qualifiers. However Burley is the man to take us forward.

Burley does not respect reputations, likes to play attacking football and is prepared to gamble. For the Iceland game he benchedKenny Miller, started with two strikers and played Kirk Broadfoot.

We can't match the big teams if we continue to play defensive football and hope that our lone striker gets a chance on goal. Nor can we do it if we don't cut the dead wood out of our squad.

Burley knows all this and he will be the man who either takes us beyond the group stages in South Africa or loses all of his major matches by five goal scorelines.

George I - Villain

Well, here's my first proper blog for almost three months. There is a good reason for my long-delayed return to the blogosphere.

I was working at a newspaper in Edinburgh in June and July. I optimistically thought that this might lead to a full-time job but alas no such luck. I've since been turned down for one job and been unable to take up two others for a variety of reasons.

I currently find myself on holiday on the Costa del Dole, which is quite frankly the worst experience of my life. You are treated like scum by the people in the Jobcentre, made to fill out stupid forms and receive endless patronising letters telling you nothing you didn't already know. The system is also so open to abuse it's unreal. To put it bluntly, I think I'm losing my soul.

Many people say the dole is the easiest existence there is - being paid not to work. Anyone who has ever said this has clearly never experienced life in benefit land.

Which brings me to villain George. Last month I saw the video below on a music TV station. George Michael tells us how great being on the dole is:


I appreciate he was making a political statement in a very different time but I hate the idea he promotes of having "soul on the dole."

Being on the dole is rubbish and I long for the day I am off it.

9/11 seven years on

I've not blogged for a while, I've decided I need to start doing it again.

Tomorrow I'll put up a full post.

However, today is the seventh anniversary of the 9/11 attacks. Seeing the memorial service in New York today brought back memories of the shock and sadness I and everyone I knew felt on that day in 2001.

Whatever anyone thinks of the events that have unfolded since I hope we never let this cloud our memories of the tragic events of that day.

To all the victims, rest in peace.

Robert Kubica and the return of Formula One racing

Last weekend Robert Kubica won the Canadian Grand Prix in Montreal in a BMW Sauber. Second went to his teammate Nick Heidfeld, third to David Coulthard in a Red Bull. Championship favourite Kimi Raikkonen went out after championship leader Lewis Hamilton crashed into the back of him in the pit lane. Felipe Massa, the other serious contender for the championship finished fifth after he was unable to get past youngster Timo Glock's Toyota. Double world champion Fernando Alonso retired on lap 44.

All of the above proves one thing, serious driver and team competition has well and truly returned to Formula One.

This is a fantastic turnaround from the way the sport was only four years ago when Michael Schumacher was destroying all the opposition in his Ferrari as he had done for the bulk of the previous five seasons.

Schumacher was undoubtedly a fine driver but, to put it bluntly, he was boring to watch. He lived up to the common sterotype of German people in that he appeared to treat driving a Ferrari to victory like it was some sort of dry routine - get out of bed, go to circuit, get in car, win race, spray champagne, drive home, go to bed, repeat. His car never broke down, he never crashed and he never had a teammate who could challenge him.

How great it is now that we now have a group of competetive, unpredictable and, ulimately, human drivers who have accidents, challenge their teamates and push their cars so hard they break down.

For the first time since I started watching F1 as an eight-year-old enthralled by Nigel Mansell F1 can truly be described as a competetive sport.

And hopefully this period's chquered flag is a long way off.

Journalists and wankers

One of the stongest arguments I've heard against watching hardcore pornography is that arthritus in the wrist can be extremely painful in later life. Partly for this reason, I've never seen a hardcore porn film.

However, in the last week I think I've discovered what hardcore viewers must feel like.

In the last week I have been writing furiously. I had eight hours solid writing in two days for four professional exams followed by three shorthand speed tests. I now find it incredibly hard to do anything with my right wrist.

Many members of the general public categorise journalists as wankers. I'm starting to think maybe we have more in common with those self-abusers than I realised.

A cry for a national media

As a journalism student, I have spent the last few days covering the council elections here in Sheffield and indeed two hours ago I went to place my vote.

This city in South Yorkshire was once one of the most ardently Labour in the whole of the United Kingdom, being led by such luminaries as future Home Secretary David Blunket.

Yet today there is no party with overall control of Sheffield City Council and it looks likely that tomorrow it will become a city run by the Liberal Democrats.

Whether or not this happens, it is an outstanding turning point in British history.

The Labour Party was set up to protect the interests of the 19^th century’s urban working class, the sort of people who worked in the steel mills that made Sheffield famous around the world. Industrial cities in Wales, the north of England and Scotland took to Labour like a duck to water.

That Labour have changed so much that it can realistically lose power in a town like Sheffield says much about the transforming nature of politics in Britain.

However, the national media hasn’t really said much about this, its focus in the last few weeks has been on the battle between Ken Livingstone and Boris Johnson in London. I want to know why.

I don’t live in London, in fact most of the United Kingdom doesn’t live in London. The UK has a population of 60, 587, 300, of whom 7,512,400 live in the Greater London area.

Or to put it another way 53, 074, 900 of people in the UK are not Londoners.

So why have I had to plough my way through endless column inches on the London mayoral election, something that does not remotely affect my life?

If I were a Londoner, I would want to know about this. London has dozens of its own local newspapers as well as several TV and radio stations, all of whom can cover the mayoral contest with greater relevance to Londoners than the Guardian or Telegraph. So why did these papers fill their pages with stories relating to the election?

Editors need to realise that London is not the be all and end all for people in this country. Most of us are not Londoners and are more concerned about our own local authority elections than the fight between Ken and Boris.

We need the media to give equal importance to the affairs of all parts of this country rather put London in the Premiership of reporting importance and relegates the rest of the country to the second division.

Only then will it truly become the national media.

North Britain/South Britain

"The noblest prospect which a Scotchman ever sees, is the high road that leads him to England!" – Samuel Johnson

I’ve just returned to Sheffield following a trip home to Roxburghshire. One of the more fun things I did whilst home was to send people down here text messages in relation to the fact that last Wednesday Scotland were not beaten by Croatia, the team that put England out of the running for Euro 2008 by beating them twice, but England were beaten by France, a team Scotland have beaten twice in the last 18 months. Similarly, possibly the only joy any Scottish rugby fan has had this year was the Calcutta Cup victory against England last month.

However, this gloating is slightly tempered by a very salient fact: I am now a Scot living in England.

I know what those of you who’ve read my profile on this blog will be thinking: “Dunc, you were born in Taunton, which is in England, so why do you call yourself Scottish?”

Well to answer you I say that my parents are Scottish, all the living relatives I speak to are Scottish, I was raised and educated in Scotland and most of my friends are Scottish. I have worn a kilt convincingly, when called upon to I can dance the eightsome reel, I like drinking single malts. So, like Rod Stewart or Alastair Darling, despite being born in England I have never actually felt English. I am de facto, if not quite de jure, Scottish.

Living in England for the first time in two decades has been somewhat surprising to me. More so than I expected, England really does feel like a different country. I now constantly feel as though I’m playing a Calcutta Cup of my own feelings for the lands either side of the Teviots.

Since the Act of Union, a common way for Scottish writers to get ahead in England has been for them to write a scathing piece about how bad things are “back home.” I’m not prepared to do that though I can’t help but admit that there are some definite benefits to being in England.

First of all, there is the fact that being further south makes the weather slightly better. Whilst it still pisses down with rain a lot, is still pretty windy and temperatures are highly unlikely to ever get above 30 degrees in Sheffield, the climate is marginally more pleasant than back home.

Then there are the everyday experiences that are not coloured to nearly the same extent with overtones of menace or aggression. When I use public transport in Sheffield I don’t worry that looking the wrong way at someone is going to end up with me being treated for stab wounds the way I did in Glasgow. At no stage in my seven months here have I been approached by a Burberryed-up ned carrying a Buckfast bottle and asked for money, something that was pretty much a daily occurrence north of the border. Going to the pub in England is also a more enjoyable experience in England. If I want to drink to something below the level at which I pass out this seems to be far more acceptable here than in Scotland where a pub is essentially an alcoholic horses trough.

The English themselves have some quite positive qualities. Whilst not quite to American levels, they are a good deal more optimistic than the average Scot and don’t decry ambition and drive with the same mockery that greets the determined in Scotland. English people as well seem to be able to actually talk to each other when they’re on busses, in shops boozing in the pub as opposed to the Scottish way of communicating in a variety of grunts and growls.

Perhaps though the thing that is best missing in England is the chippiness that characterises so many Scots. So many conversations about Scotland’s problems always seem to end with the English being blamed. More pathetically, whenever England plays any country at any sport crowds go mental when a goal/try/whatever is scored against them. So many English people, particularly in Edinburgh, get such a hard time because of their country of birth as if by being English they are responsible for everything that has gone wrong in Scotland’s history since 1707. Yet despite their being anti-Scottish articles constantly in the tabloid and broadsheet press down here, I have in seven months encountered two people who have made an issue of my nationality. I doubt very much an English person in Scotland would be able to say the same.

But I refuse to eulogise too enthusiastically about England for it does have its downsides. Firstly, there is the food you get served at an Englishperson’s house and in most English eateries. If any English chefs are reading, try looking up the following word in your nearest dictionary: F-L-A-V-O-U-R? Trust me, food is better when it has it. Similarly, why when you order a cup of tea in England do you usually end up with half a pint of milk mixed with hot water?

Perhaps the thing I least admire in England is the north/south divide. Whilst I had read many times about this before moving here I had no idea just how seriously it is taken by people. Scotland is fortunate that any similar rivalry (Glasgow/Edinburgh for instance) is largely confined to joking terms.

And there is something about Scottish cities that their English counterparts just can’t match. Sheffield has pubs and clubs that are, at the very least, equal to Glasgow’s or Edinburgh’s but they just don’t have the spirit found in those two cities drinking dens. I miss that spirit so much that I now find Iains Banks and Rankin or, more worryingly, listening to Deacon Blue as a way of getting that spirit back into my life.

Sheffield also has none of Glasgow or Edinburgh’s other night activities. The cafes close at 5pm, the bookstores close at 6pm, there are no comedy clubs. In short there is nothing like the non-boozing nightlife here that can be enjoyed easily on either side of the M8.

Scotland has a history and culture that is separate from England’s and that is something all Scots should be proud of. For a tiny country we have influenced world history far more than we ever had any right to. But we should also acknowledge that there are things we can learn from our southern neighbour; we could drink less, fight less, decry ambition less and stop using aggression at every available opportunity and still be a great country.

Just as long as we don’t start losing games to France and Croatia.

Not a mashed spud

As I said in my initial post, I’m not really a big fan of blogs. However, since hypocrisy seems to be on my menu just now, I feel like indulging in something else I grossly dislike, namely the kind whiney, naval-gazing, middle-class writing that Messrs Parsons, Hornby ,Coe and Fielding[1] seem to be so willing to inflict upon the world. Recently though people have made comments to me that have gotten me staring at my abdomen and thinking and it seems as though this blog is the best place to put these ponderences.

These comments have all concerned the way I say things with the common theme that I am quite an outspoken person. This is not a new allegation to be made to me but the intensity of the comments has gotten me contemplating myself.

My manner of speaking has gotten me into trouble throughout my life. In no particular order, here are some of a few faux-pas that I have managed to utter in the last few years:

• Asking Jim Wallace (then Scotland’s deputy First Minister) if he’d ever be enough of a success to drop the word deputy from his job description. The room laughed, he got chippy.
• Asking Michael Howard (the son of Jewish refugees) in an interview if he though the PR voting system was creating a Scottish Weimar Republic. The interview ended soon after.
• Describing a girl as the 19^th hole on a golf course. I was referring to her ability to consume booze (bars on golf courses are usually called “The 19^th Hole”), she thought otherwise.
• When asked if a very heterosexual girl was a lesbian replying “She’s got more spunk in her than the average man.”
• Telling someone with a girlfriend named Dawn that he must go to bed at 10.30pm. When asked why replying: “You have to go to bed early if you want to see the crack of Dawn!” He was unamused.

In the last few weeks I’ve been accused a girl named Louise of frequently lowering the tone of any conversation. I’ve been labelled “Master of Wit” by a guy named Phil I immediately told him he was two letters out, to which he replied: “See!” And then there was the simple comment from comment from a woman known only as the Broom: “You’re quite direct aren’t you Duncan.”

The naval-gazing and past-contemplation that these comment encouraged led me into an astute state of fear. Is my future going to be that of a low-brow commentator on life, a kind of soul mate to Jim Davidson and Roy Chubby Brown? Or will my “Master of Wit” persona turn me into a 21^st century P. G. Wodhouse doing for low-lives what he did for high society? Neither of these visions has made me particularly happy, leading me to consider whether I need to somehow fundamentally re-develop my personality.

However a further, slightly more bizarre comment from the aforementioned Broom got me thinking that maybe having an outspoken temperament isn’t necessarily a bad thing. She described me as: “Not a mashed potato person,” which, she assures me, means that I am simply not dull. The primary reason for me being not dull: my outspokenness.

Perhaps then this means instead of heading towards being Roy Chubby Brown or Jim Davidson, I am actually heading towards the status that has been accorded the outspoken likes of Jeremy Clarkson, Tony Benn or Margo MacDonald, namely being ‘a character.’

Being dubbed ‘a character’ can be a poisoned chalice. Tony Benn was always ‘a character’ yet his career ended in seminal disappointment. Mind you, Winston Churchill was also ‘a character’ and look where he ended up.

Time will tell whether I end up as being ‘a character’ or just a simple loudmouth. For the moment though I’ve decided not to try to remould my personality and will instead concentrate on living up to my status as a master of wit with an amazing ability to lower the tone of any conversation.

Willy.

---

[1] Ok, so she’s technically a Mme. Flowing prose over factual accuracy, whatever next?

My Valentine's Day

Another year, another Valentine’s Day spent by myself doing something to take my mind off the fact that it is perhaps my least favourite day of the year. This year I have decided to do this by listening to music about failed relationships (Bruce Springsteen at present) and indulging in my latest enforced hobby, blogging. But none of these can take away my intense hatred of February 14^th, .

Before I go any further, there are bound to be people reading this (an assertion if ever there was one) who will accuse me of bitterness, and perhaps they are right. I broke up with my last girlfriend two years ago tomorrow and since then my love life has been more barren than the Sahara desert during a heatwave. In the time I’ve been alone, my ex has gotten married – I heard about it via Facebook. Add to this that I didn’t get any cards this year, nor did I have anyone to send one to, and I’m sure that many could accuse me of sour grapes.

However, there are many reason’s to hate Valentine’s Day. First of all, look at the time of year. It’s February, is this really a good month to hold a celebration of all things romantic? The trees are bare, the roads are covered in grit salt and every other person you meet is carrying a tissue full of green/yellow material recently extracted from their nose. Romantic, I think not. Christmas Visa bills are also still weighing heavily on our minds. So at a time when the scenery is far from picturesque, illness is in the air and nobody’s got much money we are all suddenly expected to spend a day throwing cash around and devoting ourselves to our significant others. Surely, if a day such as Valentine’s is needed, May would be a better month to hold it.

Our shops become havens of tacky paraphernalia. Six-foot high badly made teddies with “Be Mine” inscribed upon them, CDs with titles like “The Ultimate Love” keeping Phil Collins and Celine Dion in royalties for another year and greeting cards with the kind of retching prose that even those two wouldn’t include in their songs. To be blunt, the merchandise is crap. I’ve never understood why people consider it a sign of adoration to give or receive something they would never be able to display publically without suffering gross outbursts of embarrassment.

And then there is the cynical profiteering of other industries involved in the Valentine debacle. Restaurants, confectioners and florists do extremely well out of Valentine’s Day, charging extortionate prices for what is no more than normal produce. Ask them whether the day is about love or money and they’ll tell you to close the till on your way out, darling.

The worst of it is that the people who have the power to stop all this, namely us, do nothing. I have heard people express their own dislike of Valentine’s Day in every year that I can consciously remember and I’m sure many others could testify to the same, so it can be assumed that discontent like mine is widely felt. Yet every year we still go out in the freezing cold to buy garish gifts and eat dinner in overpriced sub-standard restaurants.

I personally believe we need we need to examine why we celebrate this day. There were at least three saints called Valentine, all of whom were Catholic martyrs in the first couple of Christian centuries. Not much is known of any of them, and even what is known doesn’t point to them being great romantics. The idea of modern Valentine’s Day seems to have arisen through a Chaucer love poem mentioning the day by coincidence.

What seems likely is that Valentine’s is a hangover from Roman festivals of fertility, which were often held in February. Perhaps we need to revisit this as an idea. We would need to celebrate a modern fertility festival indoors, thus avoiding the February weather and the extortion in one fell swoop. There would also be no need to buy any gifts. Now this is the kind of celebration I could go in for.

Then again, maybe I am just bitter…

Necessity dictates

To be frank, as it would seem appropriate to be, I have never really seen much point in blogging. If I want to read semi-literate ramblings about the state of the world I ususally just head for the nearest gents and read the graffiti on the wall. However, I'm a pragmatist and had a rather stern lecture today about the neccessity of embracing the blogosphere if you are an aspirant journalist. So hear I am, let's just hope the world is ready.