Observations from a Hill

We went as a family, the other day, to Penrhyn Castle in Llandegai: that grossest of expositions of wealth built by the Barons Penrhyn off the back of fortunes made from slavery, sugar, and most latterly the exploitation of Bethesda slate and off the backs of the working men of this area. Visiting the place is always a slightly bitter-sweet experience but a salutary one: a constant reminder of how far we've come politically and socially in this archipelago, but also of how so very far we still need to travel down that serpentine and rocky road to human equality and fairness. As I've mentioned several times before in these jottings, between 1900 and 1903, there was in Bethesda a Great Strike - Y Streic Fawr - of quarrymen in the employ of Baron Penrhyn of Llandegai over pay and conditions at the Bethesda slate quarry, which employed a great proportion of men in the area. We live in Rachub, a tiny village in the hills above Bethesda itself; specifically in the upper part formerly...

Been watching the re-runs of the 1970s series series "Secret Army" [blog posts passim] yet again - yes we're sticklers for punishment, if you want to frame it that way - but to be honest there are a lot of lessons to be learned from the convoluted and internecine struggles in the occupied countries during WWII. Evaders, resistance, Communists: all with the ultimate common aim of not just surviving Nazi occupation, but through diverse means moving the war effort against the occupying forces forward; but each with their own agenda in how that aim was to be achieved, often in contradiction and to the detriment of the other groups. Within commonality there is always difference: it seems to be an unfortunate human trait that we might appear to be aiming for the same goal, but for numerous and diverse reasons that place us in conflict with each other. We all want the best, but in general, we seem to be destined to forever seek a zero-sum result of whatever game we play, rather ...

I've been pondering the purchase of a decent winter sweater. This is not as straightforward as it sounds: my requirements and subsequent parameters for the garment unfortunately tend toward the expensive. I want something genuinely warm, therefore man-made fibres are out, in my book. I want something that is not going to itch the bejeezus out of me, as I want a turtle-neck to keep me nice and toasty. I want something that will outlast me ., for gawd's sake. All of which militates towards a well-made sweater made of a decent weight of Marino wool. So I've opted for a submariner-type - I like the simplicity of style and the warmth-giving intent of the design. I've also opted for a British-made item as companies in this archipelago genuinely need our support these days. Apropos of woollen longevity, I've owned two sweaters over the years that have been the apotheosis of this type of clothing. The first I bought in Greece, on the island of Siphnos [blog posts passim] in...

I've recently signed up again for a basic subscription to the online 'magazine' "Medium", whose tech feeds in particular I follow when I can. An article that caught my eye this week is by a contributor going by the handle TheOpinionatedDev: "Object-Oriented Programming is Dead - Here's What Killed it". Now, if you don't know what Object-Oriented Programming [OOP] is, I'm not going to try and explain it, as that's not the point of my mentioning it here: a quick WikiGoogle will fill you in on the basic concepts, and give you probably too much detail to absorb at one sitting if you don't have any knowledge of coding. The point is here that OOP has pretty much been the dominant architectural idea behind modern software coding for a good thirty years or so, and was the de facto dominant religion underlying all software development during that time [I use the term religion, because as in religion, dogma rules]. The key point is made in the ...

As you can see from my notepad, I scribbled a jotting the other day to the effect that my friend John, in repairing the old Zenith watch of mine [also pictured], had afforded me the gift of time. At least, the gift of time as measured by the venerable old timepiece in question. Time, as I think anyone who reads my scribbles in these pages knows, is a bit of a thing for me. It flows and passes - or appears to do so - never to return, apparently. All is relative, as is the 'passage' of time. Nothing is fixed, and all is possible...

  Pictured, tonight's repast of a Chicken Pasanda with Peshwari Naan - the small portion is actually my normal habit these days: I need far less food than I used to when I was working - which I have to say, turned out rather fine. The recipe was not entirely mine own, but as usual I worked with what I'd got to hand in the kitchen and modified accordingly. With Christmas approaching we both of us realised we had done bugger-all actual cooking lately, so I decided I'd get my act together, exercise my new chef's knife and plough on [btw, the knife is gratifyingly sharp and is very well-balanced in the hand, despite it being much lighter than a European knife of similar size]. I'm glad I did, as I've never tried to cook a Pasanda before [no idea why], as I'm rather taken with ease of it and the very tasty results. It's given me a few ideas to try out in the future, too, as the use of ground almonds as a thickener adds all sorts of dimensions to a sauce. Any...