Number Seventy News

Back in October I took a 300-mile trip from Heilbronn, Germany, down the Neckar valley to the Rhine, and thence downstream to Cologne. Almost all of this was on excellent, usually well sign-posted cycle paths.

The 38 German schoolchildren (13 years old) and 12 adults with whom I cycled were all satisfyingly gobsmacked when I unfolded my Brompton at the start, then touchingly concerned at whether I could make it on such small wheels, and quietly respectful when I out-climbed almost everybody on the first hill and was able to stay with even the fastest boys racing to catch up with their group after some minor hitch.

I’m a real fan of the Brompton - it gives so much flexibility since it will go on the bus or train with no fuss but gives performance very little reduced from an ordinary bike in 95% of situations.
Nowhere in Germany did I see any other Bromptons, and only a couple of Dahons (another type of folding bike, for those of you not in the know). Mind you, it is so easy to take bicycles on German local trains that perhaps the need for a folder is not so acute.

It’s a truism by now to say that almost everywhere on the Continent (or the Germanic languages bit anyway) cycle provision is vastly better than here. What’s more, car drivers seem to accept that cycles have a right on the road. But there’s also a culture where cyclists tend to observe the traffic regulations - they don’t consistently ride through red lights, for example. Check out www.stopatred.co.uk

In my youth, o my best beloved, travel from South London to North London by train involved a dive into the bowels of the earth to the dubious delights of the Northern Line which, my London acquaintance tell me, is becoming increasingly eccentric.   But now we have Thameslink (have had for many years actually) so, when travelling from Lewisham to Kings Cross recently, a simple same platform change at London Bridge took us the pretty route over the Thames to Kings Cross Thameslink - whence a short walk to the Cross itself.

(I know, I know - perilous for the faint at heart - but it’s better than the Northern Line!)_

Doubtless many of the readers of this blog have better things to do - but then why are they bothering to blog in ? So, an account of recent cultural events:

Martin Carthy in York. It’s a little known fact that W.H. Auden was born in York - rather better known that he edited the Oxford book of Light Verse which, instead of being predominantly comical, contains a large selection of traditional song lyrics. Anxious to celebrate Auden’s 99th birthday in the city of his birth (albeit posthumously) the City of York Auden Society put on an excellent evening of folk recently, featuring a number of local singers and groups, plus a wonderful set from Martin Carthy. That man must know a million songs - and seems to have total recall of every verse of the longest ballads.

Ketil Bjornstad in Gateshead. And not only Bjornstad (piano), but Arild Andersen (bass), Svante Henryson(’cello), Kristin Asbjornsen (vocal), Alex Riel (drums) and Andy Sheppard (saxophone) - you’d have needed to add Gabarek to the group to top that ! All bar our own Andy Sheppard the very top Scandanavian musicians. A relatively peaceful and low key start with pieces from” Before the Light” and “Floating” but then when Sheppard came on stage much more upbeat - really grooving. Second half was a performance of “Seafarers’ Song” - a song cycle including words by Homer and Shakespeare among others - recording the plight of refugees crossing the sea over the ages and particularly those who wash up on the beaches of southern europe, dead, after heading for Europe from North Africa. And so beautifully and ferociously played !

Tennessee Williams in Islington. Well, not actually him, but his play “A period of Adjustment”. Set (and written) in the early 50s this is American kitchen sink drama - and what needs a period of adjustment is the relationship between men and women - life being the term needed. I didn’t believe in the suggestion of a happy ending - can’t see those characters ever really being capable of sustained good behaviour. Whole thing marred a bit by pretty poor southern American accents - wildly variable, including into Australian. Glad I saw it, though.

Jean Binta Breeze doing a reading, no, a “performance” of some of her poems and some of her stories based on her childhood in rural Jamaica. Warm and witty and wise and very much from the perspective of Jamaican women. Must be heard to be appreciated.

Some nostalgia for the days when Jamaica was cricket mad - now overtaken by football.

And she had shared with 2 million of the rest of us the experience of marching against the Iraq war and being ignored.

What a treat ! 90 minutes of Joan Baez - who has lost none of her passion or committment - who varies her set with oldies, new ones, protest, folk, cabaret songs. Of the oldies, “With God on their Side” got the longest applause, doubtless because the crazed US president and his faithful Tony both pray the Lord in aid to their criminal warmongering. Baez still inspires - yes she’s an entertainer but she believes what she says when she sings for peace. And her voice remains beautiful. So many of us owe her so much - she and Dylan, singing his songs, politicized a generation.

And it was plain to see which generation. From above the audience was a sea of white hair and balding heads. As Joan Baez said “I’m so pleased to be still doing this; and so pleased you’re still coming.”

Back in 1965, I heard Adrian Mitchell read his important, inspiring, seminal poem which has the refrain “Tell me lies about Vietnam.” Why is it important and seminal ? Because every politician the world over has taken his advice to heart - and not only have they ever since told us lies about Vietnam, but about everything else under the sun. That, friends, is the power of poetry - one poet instructs the politicians to lie, and they do !

The Portland Street Pedestrians like to end the winter season, before they metamorphose into the PS Pedallers, with an outing beyond York and its vast range of cosy hostelries. In the past we have visited Malton, and the Stalybridge, Huddersfield, Dewsbury rail trail; last Thursday it was Tadcaster, home of the Smiths (Sam and John) and the less sung Bass brewery round the back. Yorkshire Coastliner delivered us there and we were soon roasting in the snug of the Angel and White Horse, where a real coal fire was imitating Hades. So, on to The Falcon, where the locals cluster round the door to inspect you thoroughly as you come and go and the contraceptive machine in the gents includes Nurofen amongst its preventative measures. Finally, the low chocolate-ceilinged Howden Arms, where the fire had just been put out by an over-enthusiastic application of rubbish but the smoke detectors weren’t being fooled as we swam in through the murk and refused to sound the alarm. As the temperature dropped we soldiered on to 11.20, leaving by the back door in time to get the 11.32 bus back to York. We did observe that most pubs in Tad didn’t seem very busy and, apart from the massed ranks of the PSP, were being kept going by the same half-dozen locals diligently circulating. I’d go back to the Angel and the Howden - not sure I’d bother with the Falcon. After all, there are several others we should try next time.

Have just watched the German film “Downfall”, about the last days of the 3rd Reich, set in Berlin in 1945, mostly in Hitler’s bunker, as the Russians advance on and surround Berlin. Superb performances - utterly convincing, and based on eye-witness testimony. Pretty horrific things going on but even so I wonder if it was sanitized - not a lot about the attitude of the Russian troops to German women, for example. Interesting that after 60 years there’s a lot of interest in Germany specifically about what happened at the end of the war - when I was last there there were quite large window displays in the bookshops featuring a number of books about the immediate aftermath of the war. Also read some interesting articles by W.G. Sebald in “The New Yorker” about the end of the war and the destruction of so many German cities and towns by saturation bombing. He noted that for years after the war the German people almost wiped the scale of the destruction out of their consciousness.