Observations from a Hill

I suppose I really shouldn't be surprised, given the way things have panned out in the ending of the twenty-year war in Afghanistan; but for God's sake, why have the US abandoned such an enormous quantity of kit and ordnance on their way out? Billions of dollar's-worth of planes, helicopters, vehicles and guns have just been abandoned. The initial story was that it was all de-commissioned: now we're told that it will rot away through the lack of expertise and technical support, and that the US might just disable the stuff with drone strikes. Come on! The Taliban have funds and political & technical support in abundance, from the Middle East and Pakistan at the very least. Then there's the threat from the more(!) extremist groups that really don't like the 'new' Taliban Lite. It really is the shit-storm from Hell that most sane commentators have predicted for quite some time. Don't come down too hard on Joe Biden, remember: he inherited this agree...

As a child of the generation that witnessed and were awed by the NASA space missions of the sixties and early seventies: particularly the Apollo Moon missions - specifically Apollo Eleven - I can't help having a sinking feeling about current space flight enterprises. It would be naïve at best and I would say disingenuous to believe that space exploration was anything more than a willy-waving contest: then between the dominant superpowers of the US and the Soviet Union; now between über rich corporates who have run out of ideas on how to best each other on terra firma. Where once I was a star-struck boy with Arthur C. Clarke-fuelled dreams  of a Dan Dare-like exploration of space - itself in truth an extrapolation of Kipling and Haggard's imperial visions of Empire and dominion - now I see things pretty much for what they are, and take a more pragmatic view of such ventures. Fact is, all the useful, practical science we can garner is in near-earth orbit; the rest is just confect...

A depressing newspaper cutting from 2002; a jest of a book, given in jest; a serious book, bought ironically; and the daddy of all apocalyptic texts. Given the events of the last very few years, one might be forgiven in taking a good deal less than a pinch of salt with it all. In any case, the Pale Rider has already shown up; the fires are burning and winds and pestilence are taking their toll as we speak. Apocalyptic? You betcha: if we don't get our collective act together. If you want a laugh, read the book on the left. A reality check? Read the book on the right: there's so much crap that can happen to us if our veneer of civilisation slips even slightly, let alone after a nuclear holocaust. Want to know what goes on behind government secrecy laws across the world? Research the background to the Independent on Sunday article shown. Or you could just go down the God's wrath route: The Revelation of St. John the Divine; put your head between your knees and kiss your arse g...

Two pieces from this weekend's FT Weekend bylines stand out for me: 'Markets' with Merryn Somerset Webb on central banks, and 'Lunch With The FT', an interview with the great Michael Holding. In the former, Somerset Webb argues that central banks are suffering what she feels is regrettable 'mission-creep' as they seek to enter wider debate on politics, society and climate-change. In the latter, Holding, who I hold in the very highest esteem as a sportsman, commentator and outspoken advocate of Black Lives Matter; a fast bowler probably still never equalled in cricket; argues pretty much the same about the sport of which he was most definitely a pivotal participant in the first-class game's finest era. He considers the short-form of the game: one-day, T20 and now The Hundred (which he dismisses out of hand, having not bothered to even engage with it) as debasing the true game of cricket. I totally agree: the three-day county and five-day test match format...

Greetings from Café Paradise, here in Fairview Heights - another diary post as we're both knackered from yesterday - even given the wealth of stuff happening out there to pass comment and vent spleen on. Tonight's repast: lamb kebabs (Lidl and good), salad, two types of hummus, sun-(blushed?) tomato and mozzarella; Sicilian Nero to wash it down in the late summer - and what feels distinctly like early autumn - sun. A joy to be alive.

Again, just a diary post: today is number one son's thirtieth birthday, so the afternoon and evening have conflated into a sort of come & go soirée, starting in the garden and ending in the conservatory. All have now departed and we await the return of number one son and husband from collecting a third party and drinks at some point this evening! The photograph above I took on a stroll last night and represents nowt particular, and should be taken as such.

Just a diary post tonight - the news from Afghanistan is too depressing to contemplate: what on earth did we collectively expect would happen? Anyhow, we'll see what transpires over the coming days. Freshly-lit BBQ, late August evening sun and the old garden shed: slightly overcooked kebabs, freezer-rescued naans and Greek salad - all to the the soundtrack of Michael Brecker, issuing from the studio sound system. Nice... Have a good evening!