“I have long held the opinion that the amount of noise that anyone can bear undisturbed stands in inverse proportion to his mental capacity and therefore be regarded as a pretty fair measure of it.” Arthur Schopenhauer
Apparently, lockdown saw a huge increase in people buying dogs which puzzled me; many things do.
Tell me the attraction of having to walk the streets every day whilst waiting for the inevitable foul disposal to fumble into a black plastic bag? Walking home with the proceeds at arms length just baffles me although many do not bother.
My peaceful existence is regularly punctured by a growing number of yapping mutts generally followed by even louder howls from their owners.
It’s as if the dogs will react instantly – “oh yeah…sorry…you told me to stop barking five minutes ago…I just forgot!” Not for the life of me can I also see the attraction in being licked by something that licks its own backside.
And in our increasingly stupid and lazy society, the growth of dog walking businesses says all you need to know. Pets are becoming simply another accessory.
Grass
My meals on wheels offering this week to my Mum included an early gift from Mother Nature; homemade parsley sauce. I’d prepared the dish as if on Masterchef – save for the foil container – and waited expectantly for a pat on the head as she tucked in.
Very meticulously, she started dragging parsley leaf from the sauce.
“What are you doing?” I asked close to a Gordon Ramsay meltdown.
“It’s bloody grass!” she said waving away my protests
“I thought you said you were brought up in wartime?”
“I was and we didn’t eat bloody grass!”
Pie and mash will be back next week.
Don’t Panic!
We live in an age of instant gratification, one of shock and horror, often led by social media. I call these people the OMG bunch – Oh My God! – and picture them in a constant state of living wide-eyed and open-mouthed at most events.
The other day in the supermarket the cashless facilities went down; you would have thought a plane was crashing given the reaction of staff and customers alike.
Checkout staff looked aghast, heads in hands, bellowing instructions back down the aisles akin to “get your masks on now….fasten your belts…we’re all going to die!!!”
Simultaneously, the kind of people I watch getting on any plane, knowing that they would instantly be toast in any catastrophe, were whipped into a panic. They zipped about as if looking for the exit doors and a parachute, clambering over people.
Unable to live without the credit-assisted purchase of the middle-aisle tat, out they flew down to the village cash machines to spread more tales of impending doom and panic.
Meanwhile, little old ladies suppressed smug grins that said “how good are your gadgets now?” as they made their way to the front of the queues clutching their purses. Cash is not dead yet.
Culture?
So it is official; Bradford has thrown its hat in the ring to become UK City of Culture 2025.
Those bidding will now be asked to demonstrate how investment in culture and creativity will drive growth, how they will open up access to culture and to develop partnerships and celebrate links with places across the UK. (YP 29/5)
Meanwhile, the rest of the UK competes to attract high-paying, hi-tech jobs of the future as Bradford holds out its hat like a beggar for a pointless gong.
As I walked up from Forster Square station the other day for my second jab, I passed the old lady with her accordion, playing for a few scraps.
No further words are needed.
Pump Up The What?
The Yorkshire Posts excellent cricket writer, Chris Waters, excelled again at the weekend (29/5). His article Pumping up the volume to drown out critical background noise might ensure his editor struggles to get any free tickets this summer but, as ever, he was bang on the money.
This was considered, articulate and informed journalism; he was referring to crickets new tournament for the eternally witless called The Hundred.
The competition has teamed up with BBC Music Introducing to guarantee live artists at every match, while each of the eight franchises will have their own special DJ providing everything from walk-out music to game reaction sounds.
Game reaction sounds? What a load of bollocks!
But it is not just cricket that has been taken over by the cheque book wielding morons who have most likely never played a competitive game of sport in their lives.
Back to Chris Waters: One can no longer attend a football match…without some screaming halfwit whipping up the crowd into an hysterical state.
I well remember a guy who used to try to whip up the suffering number of regulars of us at Bradford City home games. Well into his sixties he would march around the pitch, clapping maniacally above his head, as most offered little but derision. What was he doing?
Not that I will ever watch one of these contrived by television farces but Waters rightly states quicker and louder does not mean the most important thing – better.
May I end by referring you back to the quote at the beginning?
Lord Frazer Irwin says
What is Culture?
Put ‘define culture’ in a search engine, see what comes up and relate it to your part of Bradford.
Given what I’ve read throughout your pages of late a little digging around on the Net produced a few interesting snippets.
One has to ask does Bradford have what it takes to be a Centre for Culture given the attitude of the Council – Bradford District lacks “the range of cultural activity a place this size demands”, its council says. There’s no guarantee the bid will successful and if not what could the money spent have gone to?
Already two of the seven cities in the 2025 proposal have dropped out giving lack of interest among others as excuses. Swansea’s failed bid cost local tax payers over £280K. Rose tinted spectacles could be the last thing Bradford wants during and after the pandemic.