tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6397994015821814692024-02-02T05:01:48.972-08:00I'm still working on thatJonny Bayeshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04135597462784750082noreply@blogger.comBlogger302125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-639799401582181469.post-33055355224260572022018-10-24T10:56:00.000-07:002018-10-24T10:56:38.651-07:00In search of a resolution
<span style="font-family: Calibri;"><em>I wonder
if we’re gathering stones, or piling them up, striving to raise the very ground
we stand on, live on. Building on the past, our ancestors turning in their
graves, or watching from heaven, amused by our little problems. They saw the
same things, perhaps in different ways. They too asked, “What’s next?” Knelt
down beside their beds, faces buried in hands, or calling to the mountains.
Which road to take? The one less travelled, the one you’ve walked before? How
long can you wait for the reply to echo back?</em></span><br />
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<o:p><span style="font-family: Calibri;"></span></o:p> </div>
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<span style="font-family: Calibri;">Adam waits at the junction, the signposts are blank. He
considers his options, he stands still and thinks, then he starts to pace back
and forth shaking his head. Then he sits down, in the dust, legs crossed. A
while later another man comes up behind him, he doesn’t stop, doesn’t even look
at the signpost, just carries on down the left path. Adam hails him but gets no
reply. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Calibri;">A second man appears, he pauses
at the junction and looks down at Adam on the ground. “Do you know which way is
best?” he asked.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Calibri;">“The last person went left,” Adam
answered.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt; text-indent: 36pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">“Hmm. Guess I will too.” The man
ambled off.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<span style="font-family: Calibri;"></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">Time passed. A woman arrived.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Calibri;">“Hi,” she said.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Calibri;">“Hi,” said Adam.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Calibri;">“What are you waiting for?”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt; text-indent: 36pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">“An answer,” replied Adam after a
pause. “A resolution.”</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Calibri;">The woman sat down. “A resolution
isn’t an ending,” she said, “no answer will end your confusion.”</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Calibri;">“Then what is a resolution?”</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Calibri;">“A resolve.” The woman smiled. “A
determination to get up an go on. Both of these ways are equally long.”</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Calibri;">“And equally wrong?”</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Calibri;">“Depends.” She smiled again.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Calibri;">“On what?”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt; text-indent: 36pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">“If you’ll let me go with you?”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt; text-indent: 36pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">“Which way should I go?”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt; text-indent: 36pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">“You choose.”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt; text-indent: 36pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">“I feel like you already know
which one I’ll choose.”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt; text-indent: 36pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">“Maybe,” said the woman, “I’m not
too worried which one, I’ve seen them both, but if you’re waiting for someone
else to bring you your own resolve you’ll be waiting a long time. I’m not going
to tell you. But if you let me join you I’ll make sure you get to the other end
safely.”</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Calibri;">“Right.”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt; text-indent: 36pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">“You understand?”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt; text-indent: 36pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">“No, we’re going right,” said
Adam, getting up, “I don’t understand a thing.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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Jonny Bayeshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04135597462784750082noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-639799401582181469.post-77705795231290166942018-08-22T12:17:00.000-07:002018-08-22T12:17:26.319-07:00MontenegroIf you were to judge Montenegro by its airline company and the quality of their aeroplanes you might consider it to have some similarities with a bathroom that hasn't been redecorated since the 1990s. Slightly tired looking, with beige walls and hospital-blue curtains, fraying at the edges. Old but not ancient with questionable reliability. The airhostess gave the most laid back safety demonstration I have yet seen, waving her arms in various directions indicating that oxygen masks were somewhere in the plane and that the emergency exits might be above you, below you or have been missing for several years depending how you interpreted her gestures.<br />
Emerging from the clouds over the Adriatic, however, and swooping majestically towards Tivat Airport, the view was one of dramatic hills covered with trees and red roofs beside blue waters. The small towns were busy and the beaches crowded. Montenegro is a great clash of everything: people, culture, history. There are many nationalities in a very small space and it is hard to know who is a 'local' and who is just visiting. Ancient cities (dating into the centuries BC) are surrounded by modern developments and always there are the steep sided mountains, alive with the sound of Cicadas, that plunge into the salty waters of Kotor Bay, or lakes further inland.<br />
The people are neither overwelcoming nor standoffish. Visitors, and attackers, have been coming to this part of the world for millennia and no one seems surprised any more. Progress, also, might be coming; new buildings are going up, the tourism industry is strong, but there's no rush, things will happen in their own time and meanwhile the water is warm for bathing, there is food on the table (along with bottled water - no one seems sure if the tap water is safe to consume) and there is peace between politicians and governments it would seem.<br />
On the way out of Tivat Airport I noted that 6 of the first 12 flights that morning were headed to Russia. I had already seen a submarine base, hidden in a hillside, from the Cold War. This strategic location has always been more that a destination for holiday makers but I hope its days of war may be behind it, because Montenegro is pleasant, a refuge, quiet and yet strong, small and yet valuable, a highly treasurable piece of beautiful earth.<br />
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Jonny Bayeshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04135597462784750082noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-639799401582181469.post-35213848088930308422018-07-21T12:05:00.001-07:002018-07-21T12:05:53.489-07:00Notes from a Day in the HillsHaving only climbed one of the North Western Fells in the Lake District (Cat Bells - same as almost everyone else) I thought it was time to try out a few more. It was a typical day in the Lakes - cloudy, darkening during the morning, mist settling at about 400 metres and chilly wind on the tops; everyone putting on their coats and hats. Then suddenly changing at 2pm with a bit of sunshine and the temperature rising about 5 degrees in as many minutes and everyone de-layering again. Not that I saw too many people for most of the day.<br />
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I started with a sharp ascent up Barf (possibly the best named Fell in the Lake District, or maybe the country). It must be one of the steepest climbs going, although it was pleasant enough in the woods. At the top I found an England flag wedged among the stones, so apparently the hill has been claimed for Queen and Country (I'm not sure if whoever placed it realised they were already in England). Despite the cloudy skies the hills were offering their usual array of colours, to which my camera can do little justice.<br />
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Once the cloud had descended I had to rely on the map to inform me I was bearing left and not right (which is what it felt like) and that I wasn't just going in circles. I ticked off three more Wainwright peaks before descending out of the wind to a section of dislodged stone wall which made a nice enough place for lunch, although I spent much of it speculating for the umpteenth time when these walls were built, how many people it took and how long it took them, and ultimately, why?</div>
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I was on a particularly steep slope, surrounded by thousands of heavy stones. It was a huge effort to make this wall, and the hundreds of others across the district. Now all that the wall separates is a field of ferns from a field of trees, but I suppose it must have been important at the time. I'm just glad I didn't have to lug all the stones around!</div>
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I finished the day by climbing Whinlatter, which has very few paths to the top, but a maze of routes on the lower slopes, so many that it was quite difficult to find my way off. It was also odd going from a day of seeing no more than a dozen hikers to suddenly being surrounded by all sorts of adventurous and athletic people zip wiring, mountain biking and long distance running. That's the Lake District for you!<br />
Jonny Bayeshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04135597462784750082noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-639799401582181469.post-66910322250663037052018-06-30T11:57:00.002-07:002018-06-30T11:57:19.661-07:00ResponsibilitiesResponsibility is hard, and the more things you are responsible for the harder life gets. A simple life is one with few responsibilities. Having a house, a car, a family, having influence and power, all these are marks of success in our world, and yet I wonder if the true sign that someone is succeeding in life is how they handle the responsibility of those things. Having been the possessor of a house for almost 10 months now I'm coming to realise how big a responsibility it is and how easily it could get (and for some people clearly has got) away from them, leaving them in much worse situations than they started with.<br />
Yet, at the same time responsibility is important. Someone with no responsibility is likely to become reckless. This is why young people should be given responsibility, and not just for show, but real tasks that genuinely matter. It increases maturity and wisdom and bring value to life. It also reminds us that we're not as awesome as we sometimes think we are, that we all need help.<br />
So, take on responsibilities, but gradually, as you are able to meet the demands of each one, and give responsibilities to others, and help others as they need it.Jonny Bayeshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04135597462784750082noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-639799401582181469.post-35996236038645052952018-05-31T07:12:00.000-07:002018-05-31T07:17:46.170-07:00P.T. Barnum - More than a ShowmanI have just concluded reading an autobiography of P.T. Barnum, which at the end of the 19th Century had the second most printed copies of any book in North America after the New Testament. Barnum is now commonly known for his circus, or more recently as Hugh Jackman in <em>The Greatest Showman</em>, however, I have learnt that he was so much more than this, indeed, because he wrote this memoir in 1855, at the age of 45, his travelling circus does not even feature (it began when he was 60!) It also doesn't include any of his later political career.<br />
What it does include is a fascinating history of early 19th Century American life, both rural and urban; the shifting of culture from a generally agricultural society to one of business, enterprise and manufacture; and a study into the successful manipulation of the public to make money from business, showmanship, lotteries, banking, newspapers and many other enterprises.<br />
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Barnum was known as the Prince of Humbug, a term referring to the ways in which he presented things as something other than what they were. His ability to advertise successfully, however, induced people to keep coming back to his museums and tours time after time and on the whole it seems they always enjoyed what they saw. Sometimes they even appreciated when they'd been taken in by a hoax.<br />
This idea of a joke or a prank was birthed in Barnum from a very early age, and much of the first few chapters of the book is devoted to the various pranks he and other people played on each other. Later on he comments, "No doubt my natural bias is to merriment, and I have encouraged my inclination to 'comedy,' because enough of 'tragedy' will force itself upon the attention of every one in spite of his efforts to the contrary."<br />
Barnum was not only gifted at spotting a good gag, but also a good deal or a good idea. It was this ability that led him to such success in so many different areas, including running newspapers, building new towns, and managing the American tour of the singer Jenny Lind.<br />
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Possibly my favourite parts of the book include extracts from his three-year tour of Europe, in which he visited various royal families and other nobility. This insight into the lives and houses of the richest people in London, Paris and other cities is fascinating and there are probably few other accounts like this one. Also while he was in England Barnum managed to arrange for a team of Bell Ringers from Lancashire to tour America, after he had convinced them that they would pretend to be Swiss. Apparently their accents were so strong no one in America would know the difference!<br />
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Ultimately, despite his wealth, fame and general success, Barnum was very philosophical and practical and I agree wholeheartedly with him on many of his thoughts. Barnum became a teetotaller and toured America lecturing on temperance and troubles caused by alcohol. He also highly valued 'home and family' seeing them as the "highest and most expressive symbols of the kingdom of heaven."<br />
He also makes remarks that would not be out of place today. "What a pitiful state of society it is, which elevates a booby or a tyrant to its summit, provided he has more gold than others - while a good heart or a wise head is contemptuously disregarded if their owner happens to be poor! No man can be truly happy who, because he chances to be rich, mounts upon stilts, and attempts to stride over his fellow beings. My sincere prayer is, that I may be reduced to beggary, rather than become a pampered, purse-proud aristocrat."<br />
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Although the musical movie<em> The Greatest Showman</em> shows little of all this I think Barnum would have appreciated the joke. Millions of people have turned out to watch a spectacle, only part of which is true and yet went away very happy.<br />
Barnum was a more remarkable man than I ever realised and his memoir should be read by those interested in looking back, those studying the present and those planning for the future.<br />
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<br />Jonny Bayeshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04135597462784750082noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-639799401582181469.post-70611629169207142142018-05-17T12:18:00.000-07:002018-05-17T12:18:30.382-07:00A PrologueIn the early 1800s lived a man of considerable wealth. He was a man of strong values and upright, Christian morals and a great dislike of society and what it had become. Such was the basis for this man's decision to attempt to begin a new society founded on those noble values in a land separated from the evils of this world and unburdened by it's confusion of people and ideals. On some distant island he would start afresh, gather a new people, righteous and good, and there set an example for the world to follow. This man was my father. His death on the outbound voyage was perhaps a blessing given what became of our mission, but there, we all see clearer with hindsight.<br />
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The beginnings of this dream awoke in my father when he was still young himself, and just setting out in the world, discovering its wonders and flaws. However, it was many years later that he seriously began setting out plans, scouring maps of distant lands and researching the discoveries of other explorers who had made pathways across the seas.<br />
My family had made money through shipping and trade, both good and bad and so acquiring a vessel to take us to a new land was not a problem. The greater challenge for my father was deciding who would join us in our venture. He wanted people who were skilled in various ways, but more importantly upright and of good character. We also wanted to avoid unwanted attention or publicity. We did not want the world and his wife to attempt to come with us, and so it became our secret. For nearly two years we watched and listened, talking to friends and strangers, and slowly a list was drawn up.<br />
Because of our careful planning almost all of those whom we asked to join agreed and were enthusiastic about the idea. They too sought a fresh start and a new way of life. A few declined but thankfully kept our voyage secret and so by the time we were ready to set off the reason for our journey and who was going was largely unknown. Even those coming did not know everything or everyone.<br />
My father's name was James and my mother's name was Verity. Then there was me, aged 12 at the beginning of our journey to the far side of the world, and completing our family was Amelia, known to all as Emmie, and, at 7 years old, the youngest member of our entire gathering. You'll get to know us and all the others as I go on, but I will add that come departure day we were a happy, even giddy, collection people, united by our passion and excitement and nothing, we thought, could possibly thwart our mission.<br />
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Jonny Bayeshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04135597462784750082noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-639799401582181469.post-79649862408387994532018-04-23T12:19:00.000-07:002018-04-23T12:19:28.356-07:00A little less lonely togetherJust putting this out there, I love this generation, this period of world existence. I feel like it gets some bad press and more than it's fair share of negative comments (and I've been critical plenty of times), but I think there's a lot going for it. I enjoy the music, the sport, the technology, the desire for unity, the passion to do something that matters, even if only on a small level, and the commitment to not simply accept things the way they are, especially if they are unfair or just plain wrong.<br />
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I wonder though, if this generation (and I don't just mean a certain age group, but anyone and everyone currently alive) feels like we've found a method that works? Because it's clear to me we still have our problems.<br />
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Previous generations have battled through population destroying diseases and world wars, and maybe pockets of those still exist, but on the whole we live in a time when we have longer life-expectancy, greater freedom of travel, safety, security and more expendable income than ever before, and yet, do we have what really matters? What people cry out for? Are we "Going home together to forget we're alone" (Sigrid - Strangers), or is it "I might hate myself tomorrow but I'm on my way tonight, let's be lonely together, a little less lonely together" (Avicii & Rita Ora).<br />
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The lyrics of the lyricists and the testimony of the tech-heads suggest a desire for something else. A true intimacy? A solid identity? A wholesome purpose? These are things people cry out for - most noticeably young people, but maybe that's because you become less vocal with age. And the question is, have we found solutions for these problems - solutions that actually work? Or have our solutions left us further apart and more passionate for personal gain?<br />
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I love who we are and what we've done up to this point, but I have hopes for even better. I just don't know if we can get there by ourselves. And that poses more questions.<br />
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Jonny Bayeshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04135597462784750082noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-639799401582181469.post-32028923879629501142018-03-31T08:11:00.000-07:002018-03-31T08:11:53.604-07:00When walking with children<em>An Easter Saturday walk in the Lake District, as described on the way back to the cars by one of the youngest members of the group...</em><br />
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We set off and it was raining and then soon it was snowing and it was sooooo cold! I couldn't feel my feet, which was a problem when we had to climb up some rocks. <br />
It felt like a long way but it also didn't seem a long time when we reached the hut and there were loads of people but it wasn't any warmer inside. But there were lots of cakes. I couldn't decide which one to have first. I chose the rainbow cake, which had every colour of the rainbow inside and <em>delicious </em>icing on top. Mmmmmm. Then I had some chocolate cake, with two layers of icing in the middle. It was soooo good! Ahhhhh.<br />
Then what else did I have? Oh, yes, the chocolate crispy cake, that was really chocolaty and crispy. Yuuummmm!<br />
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After that we went to explore some old mines. The first one had bats in. The second one had bats in. The third one was reallllllly long, and had a dead sheep in, which was just bones, and I was the first one to find the end of the tunnel.<br />
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I wish you could make ice cream on Minecraft. I think I will make some ice cream. I'll get some milk and wheat... oh and sugar, of course. I think I'd make mine melon flavoured and apple. Do you think you can make carrot ice cream, or carrot cake ice cream?<br />
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Ohhh, it's really muddy, why did you bring us this way?!!!<br />
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Jonny Bayeshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04135597462784750082noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-639799401582181469.post-45857352158348415232018-03-26T11:26:00.000-07:002018-03-26T11:26:32.126-07:00A Garden of PossibilitiesIt's been a while since I did a picture blog, so I thought I would show you the evolution of my garden in the six months since I moved.<br />
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Before I moved in (the bench wasn't included)</div>
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Pulling back the grass (it wasn't too nice), removing the weeds and building a fire pit in time for Guy Fawkes night!</div>
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Constructing a path (using up some of the more than 40,000 stones that I estimate are in the garden, pesky things, but there's a use for everything somewhere).</div>
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Heading into the wet winter months...</div>
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Patience was required</div>
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Snow! (Not much I realise, but it's there). Gardens can be beautiful in Winter too.</div>
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A new path...</div>
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... and even less grass - sometimes drastic work is required before new life can come!</div>
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Sunny days, spring is coming, the pruning and reconstructing of the garden is nearly over, soon the planting can begin (grass, flowers, vegetables and who knows what else!)</div>
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To be continued (I'm still working on it...)</div>
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Jonny Bayeshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04135597462784750082noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-639799401582181469.post-43131881539888838032018-03-02T07:04:00.000-08:002018-03-02T07:04:21.184-08:00The Week the Wind Blew WrongThe wind blew strangely. Twisting. Unpredictable. Clouds gathered and vanished, the sky was grey. Gusts caught at trees leaning the wrong way. Broke them. Everything was back to front. Dry snow settled then rose back up, blew sideways and froze. Icicles grew under car bumpers. Was this a winter of the past, stirring old memories, or of the future, with its strapline and 24-hour coverage? The young complain that it's too cold, the old clear snow from their driveways and carry on as normal.<br />
The wind blows strangely. Twisting. Unpredictable. Secrets are revealed. People grow closer and further apart simultaneously. Helping each other by staying indoors. Watching problems unfold online. The TV doing their thinking for them. Someone tweets and a company loses a billion dollars. Minds change, emotions shift. Everyone wants what's right (for them) but no one can quite agree what is right. Lines aren't clear. Who can say when you've crossed one? Who gets to say what happens, is it the one or the many. The wind blows strangely. What's next?Jonny Bayeshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04135597462784750082noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-639799401582181469.post-48584443176397727102018-02-24T11:53:00.000-08:002018-02-24T11:53:30.974-08:00Connected by a PassionFrom the quirky Opening Ceremony of the 2018 Winter Olympics onwards, South Korea have pushed the message of connectivity and inclusivity. People are united by their passions and in Winter sports those passions are more obvious than in almost any other. The commitment of athletes to break the boundaries of what is humanly possible by throwing themselves down, up and off mountains, and ice rinks, displaying dazzling revolutions in the air, going faster and further, is astounding. <br />
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And it almost doesn't matter which country you are from, success is celebrated universally, disappointments are shared by everyone, because the aim is not simply to put yourself forward, but to challenge everyone to do more, be better and excel in whatever way you can. As one commentator noted this week, it doesn't matter if you're not inspired to ski down a steep hill, do several somersaults 20 feet in the air and land on your face, because you'll probably be inspired to do something, and may you do it with everything you have so that you can in turn inspire others to go beyond what they thought possible at the same time make a difference to the world around them.<br />
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Jonny Bayeshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04135597462784750082noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-639799401582181469.post-86091913933217028572018-01-29T12:06:00.002-08:002018-01-29T12:06:49.560-08:00Musical HarmonyI am impressed by the original ideas people keep coming up with for TV singing competitions. It's a shame that at the core they're all as shallow and staged as each other, and but for spotting someone i know on the judging panel (one of the '100') on the BBC's latest offering - the cheesily named, 'All together now' - i probably would have switched it off. However, putting aside the disappointing production, i do like the concept of this show.<br />
There is a certain amount of music that is meant to be listened to, and appreciated, but there are equally as many songs that are meant to be sung corporately, or are just fun to join in with. So a show that encourages the singer to try and get the judges joining in seems like a nice idea. Of course the best song choices are going to be upbeat classics, but i would like to see someone brave attempt a real choral song, where the 100 might not know the words but will put their own vocal talents to the test by simply making backing music.<br />
If this has been deliberately timed to be shown after the release of The Greatest Showman then that's a good move, if not it was just fortunate, but hopefully their combined effect will keep Britain singing together, in unity, something that music has more power than possibly anything else, to do.<br />
<br />Jonny Bayeshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04135597462784750082noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-639799401582181469.post-18809594474878141342018-01-23T14:14:00.001-08:002018-01-23T14:14:53.805-08:00No Greater SpectacularIf tonight is anything to go by there is one thing that hasn't changed in a hundred years and that is the audiences. I was at the cinema for a midweek showing of a film that has been out for four weeks and the place wasn't far from packed out, and this, I believe, was not necessarily because it was the greatest film, but more because it was the greatest show!<br />
As La La Land revealed last year, this film was a proof that cinema is far from dead when a true display of all that is great in mankind comes to the screen. When soaring music, song and dance, acrobatics, magic, energy and passion, colour and light and joy combine it lifts the heart like little else. The musical too can hardly be called a entertainment medium of the last century. Clearly here in England at least (although I believe probably everywhere) people will flock to witness the talents of great performers, to see smiles and tears and to applaud them for who they are as much as for what they can do.<br />
The Greatest Showman is a new musical of the life of Barnum, for a new century, and may it carry on the baton of bringing life and joy and love through great performances in the way the circus did so many years ago, connecting people in a shared passion for people.<br />
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Jonny Bayeshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04135597462784750082noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-639799401582181469.post-40408291672284373162018-01-21T09:13:00.000-08:002018-01-21T09:16:00.254-08:00To the end of the garden<span style="font-family: "calibri";">Leaving behind the comfort of the house, my cosy chair, the soft
lights and the warm radiator; putting down my mobile phone, my laptop and with
them the internet, that great web of connectivity that traps us and keeps us
bound within its sticky strands; I escape to the garden. To the rain washed
stones and crumpled grass. The grey skies and the brown earth and the cold.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "calibri";"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>I follow
the path past freshly worked flower beds and the tree chopped down last year. I spot
a lost clothes peg, an ancient tennis ball and a plastic lizard that looks so
realistic it makes me jump. I duck under the low branches of a pine tree, maybe
as old as me, and as the path fades to nothing I have to crouch to the ground
to climb past a bush and down a hidden corridor of ivy and evergreen branches
until I reach the end of the garden.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "calibri";"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>Here, in
what some might consider a secret wasteland, there are broken bricks and crisp
packets, piles of unwanted branches and rotten fence posts, and quiet. A sacred
silence, a breathing space, an intimate moment. And it’s here that I find what
I’m looking for. The pilgrimage is complete. This is no rubbish pile, it is the
fuel source. Life is often found in unusual places.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "calibri";"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>I gather
up the old wood, the twigs, the branches and the fractured trellising and I return
to the garden. In a small pit I arrange my fuel, my power source and then I set
it alight. Flames dance. Heat and light spill out into the evening air. The
damp wood hisses, while pops and cracks echo off the walls of the house. Embers
shoot upwards and sideways, energy has been released. Pine wood scents the
smoke rising to a clearing sky and a crescent moon.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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Jonny Bayeshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04135597462784750082noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-639799401582181469.post-81649821254872110422017-12-31T07:59:00.000-08:002017-12-31T07:59:45.085-08:00Just RightThe years keep us busy, or should. Time doesn't stand still and neither should we (except for holidays and particular moments). The leaves on the trees come and go, and soon another year is over, like this one, so let's be sentimental for a moment.<br />
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Things have been achieved this year - for me, I bought a house, and have begun putting it to use, inviting people to come and share in what I have. I've also been able to share my time with friends and family, in many parts of the country. I've visited London twice, gone walking in the Lake District and Snowdonia, and gone sailing for the first time.<br />
Of course, the ever present question at this time of year hangs in the air, "What next?"<br />
I don't know. More of the same, probably, but hopefully new goals will present themselves at the right moment. I hope you have goals too, we should always have something worth striving for. Things will never work out how we'd like, or expect, but we can more than manage with what we have.<br />
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I unashamedly like the story of Little Women, and I enjoyed the BBC adaptation over Christmas, especially this line, which I think sums up life quite well:<br />
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"Nothing's ever perfect. But things can be just right."<br />
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Happy New Year!<br />
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Jonny Bayeshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04135597462784750082noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-639799401582181469.post-27568211093914436092017-12-20T13:30:00.000-08:002017-12-20T13:30:08.601-08:002017 awardsFrom the books I have read, films I have seen and songs I have heard for the first time this year, here are my top choices.<br />
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<strong>Best Book</strong><br />
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgOk_U-nl3PHFy6dJcP3Ksfuom8xsZTDOj-9SP6WMtEEbG187flEEizRMaimKhcqnLVDGKk8wFDesKRqbh2Maa8nPF842QdbO0znnH-1iO06NOWAajUapuu0muT7YpxYtGnRlGGlBzVHxM/s1600/TownLikeAlice.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgOk_U-nl3PHFy6dJcP3Ksfuom8xsZTDOj-9SP6WMtEEbG187flEEizRMaimKhcqnLVDGKk8wFDesKRqbh2Maa8nPF842QdbO0znnH-1iO06NOWAajUapuu0muT7YpxYtGnRlGGlBzVHxM/s1600/TownLikeAlice.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="377" data-original-width="260" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgOk_U-nl3PHFy6dJcP3Ksfuom8xsZTDOj-9SP6WMtEEbG187flEEizRMaimKhcqnLVDGKk8wFDesKRqbh2Maa8nPF842QdbO0znnH-1iO06NOWAajUapuu0muT7YpxYtGnRlGGlBzVHxM/s320/TownLikeAlice.jpg" width="220" /></a>I have not read as widely as I would have liked this year, possibly because the year has been more broken up than previously, with different things going on, but I have completed a few excellent books, including <em>All the light we cannot see </em>and <em>Lion</em>. My pick for the best book I have read, however, goes to <em>A town like Alice, </em>by Nevil Shute.<br />
Written in 1950 it splits the setting between 2nd World War Malaya, and post-war England and Australia. The main character, Jean Paget, has come into an inheritance and is determined to use it to generate prosperity for a small community in the outback.<br />
The characters are superbly formed and the settings dramatic. The descriptions of life I cannot imagine are almost unmatched in anything I have read before and it taught me a lot about places I have never, and possibly will never, visit! <br />
<br />
<br />
<strong>Best Film</strong><br />
By contrast I have seen quite a lot of films this year. I finally caught up with <em>Inception</em>, and I was deeply challenged by <em>I, Daniel Blake. </em>But my favourite film of the year, is <em>La La Land</em>. It is the first time I really appreciated my film studies A level, and felt like I was getting my money's worth from going to the cinema. For my full review see my blog post from January.<br />
<br />
<br />
<strong>Best Song</strong><br />
There aren't many new songs that I've been singing throughout the year, but one that I have is Coldplay's <em>Something Just Like This.</em> I've enjoyed Coldplay's music before, but this is the first year I would really say I have become a fan, discovering many of their lesser known tracks. This song, of course, was very popular, partly for it's catchy tune, but also for it's message, something I think we all appreciate - we may not all be heroes, or want to meet them, but we all want someone we can miss, true relationships. It's part of what life is all about.<br />
<br />
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Jonny Bayeshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04135597462784750082noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-639799401582181469.post-6579550610145704242017-11-30T11:13:00.000-08:002017-11-30T11:13:25.937-08:00O For a SongTerry sings at the football every Saturday.<br />
Susanne sings in the prestigious Philharmonic choir.<br />
Adrianna sings in the school production.<br />
Jake sings at Canterbury Cathedral.<br />
Jen is learning opera.<br />
Harry does every open mic night around, hoping for his big break.<br />
The radio DJs of the world blare out an incessant stream of music from across the ages.<br />
<br />
As ABBA said, "Thank you for the music, the songs I'm singing." Even those who never sing (or never admit to it) can't deny that without songs the world would be a poorer place. But I think all of us can still underestimate the power of song. Without it we lack a certain unifying force. An uplifting, spirit-changing power that takes us beyond ourselves and makes us something more. <br />
<br />
However, other than in large groups, singing is more often laughed at than supported. Maybe it's our age of individualism or maybe it's just pride and vanity, but people are much less inclined to sing out loud and proud. The school assembly, once an occasion for a rousing song to begin the day, is now most often devoid of corporate music making, and when it is, only mumbled drudgery limps from uneasy lips.<br />
<br />
How can the new generation get past this hurdle. Perhaps with a new song, to unite them?<br />
<br />
Robert Leckie, American, World War Two Marine, writes in his memoirs <em>Helmet for my Pillow</em> of the tragedy of having no song to sing:<br />
"It is sad to go off to war without a song of your own to sing. Something like a rousing war song - something like the "Minstrel Boy" or something jolly and sardonic like the Englishman's "Sixpence" - might have made the war a bit more worth fighting. But we got none. Ours was an Advanced Age, too sophisticated for such outdated frippery. War cries or war songs seemed rather naïve and embarrassing for our rational time. We were fed food for thought; abstractions like the Four Freedoms were given to is. Sing a marching song about that, if you can."<br />
Despite this they still loved to sing (or at least "Bellow out a tune"). It provided more than just joy, it became a part of life. A part of life that seems at times to be missing and thus leaves something locked up inside of us that would be better released.<br />
<br />
O world, give us a song, and give us the freedom to sing it.<br />
<br />
Jonny Bayeshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04135597462784750082noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-639799401582181469.post-17328278829595054452017-10-26T09:24:00.001-07:002017-10-26T09:24:16.994-07:00In Memorandum<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">Peter Ligertwood</span></div>
<div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt; text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">Acting Captain</span></div>
<div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt; text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">2<sup><span style="font-size: x-small;">nd</span></sup> Royal
Marine Battalion</span></div>
<div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt; text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">Date of Birth: 14 Nov
1887</span></div>
<div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt; text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">Date of Death: 26 Oct
1917</span></div>
<div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt; text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">Killed in action<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt;">
</div>
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">Peter Ligertwood enlisted in January 1906. Four years later
he was promoted to Corporal and four years after that to Sergeant, just as the
war started. However, for the next few years his company resided first on the
south coast of England and then further from the action, in Ireland.</span><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt; text-indent: 36pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">Peter Ligertwood became the crack
shot of the Corps and in January 1916 received a commissioning as Lieutenant.
He was to get one more promotion. But still it was other men who were called to
France, other companies who served their country. Peter spent most of 1916 writing a training
manual which survived the war and may have been used for many years after. <span style="font-family: Calibri;">In May
1917 he joined the 1<sup><span style="font-size: x-small;">st</span></sup> Royal Marine Battalion and the next day
transferred to the 2<sup><span style="font-size: x-small;">nd</span></sup> Battalion only to become sick and be laid up
in hospital for the rest of the summer. He must have wondered if he would see anything of the war, but in mid-September, 1917, he rejoined
his Battalion, and, as it happened, just in time to be finally shipped to
France.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt;">
</div>
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">Summer on the continent had been bad, and not just on
account of the war. Endless rains had turned northern France into a mud bath.
Ligertwood’s division was taken to the front at Arras and then on to Ypres. They
trained, as well as they could, and saw enough action for Peter to receive two
wounds. Their Captain, however, suffered worse and died, so on the 22<sup><span style="font-size: x-small;">nd</span></sup> of
October Peter was promoted to Acting Captain until another one could be
officially appointed. The war, though, wouldn’t wait.</span><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>Instructions
came that 2<sup><span style="font-size: x-small;">nd</span></sup> Battalion were to pass through the 1<sup><span style="font-size: x-small;">st</span></sup>
Battalion and attempt to reach targets across the Paddebeek stream, some 800
yards further on. Peter Ligertwood gathered his Marines and informed them that
in a few days they would go ‘over the top’. Knowing that they would quickly become
disorientated in the mud and the dark he devised a plan. In each company a
Marine would carry a wooden banner with red stripes, like in days of old, as a
rallying point. The Chaplain, Father Davey, blessed the wooden banners and the
men soon considered them to be sacred.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<span style="font-family: Calibri;"><span style="mso-fareast-language: EN-GB;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;"></span></span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Calibri;"><span style="mso-fareast-language: EN-GB;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">When dark came on
the night of the 24th of October the Naval men relieved the Royal Scots. It was
evident even then that troubles lay ahead. There was no real front, just mud scrapings
with some machine guns and riflemen. When shells came over and a soldier was
walking the duckboards there was no alternative than to go on. Richard Tobin
remarked, unhappily, “there is no hope of food or ammunition and the Germans
will rain down a storm of steel.” </span></span></span><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt; text-indent: 36pt;">
<span style="mso-fareast-language: EN-GB;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">On Thursday, for a change, the weather was bright and the clear autumnal
sunlight lifted their spirits a little, although nothing could take away the
knowledge of what was to come. It’s hard to imagine what someone will think
about in that situation, knowing that in a few days they must face a very high
chance of death. Did they wonder why they were there at all? </span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt; text-indent: 36pt;">
<span style="mso-fareast-language: EN-GB;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">The forecast for the morning of Friday the 26<sup><span style="font-size: x-small;">th</span></sup> of October was
for more fine weather but in the early hours the rain returned. For two days
they had shelled the Germans, caving in the trenches, making massive mud holes
in the desolate landscape that now became black ponds in a black land.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<br />
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">The Battalion was directed to assemble on a line 150 yards
east of Burns House, Vacher Farm Road. At 6:30 am they were to form for attack
behind the stationary barrage at the limit of the first objective, and move
forward with the barrage at 7:36 am. German shells were already throwing up clouds of mud but the red banners were held aloft for all to see on the howling battlefield. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: Calibri;"> The Battalion duly set off but it was only on
the flanks that they were able to make any headway. Acting Captain Peter
Ligertwood led A Company. He'd found a length of spun yarn and connected his men together to prevent them leaving the narrow tracks
through the mud. When a man fell he was quickly hauled back to his feet and
with Ligertwood leading from the front the whole company crossed the Paddebeek
and soon made good their position.</span><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt; text-indent: 36pt;">
<span style="mso-fareast-language: EN-GB;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">Ligertwood’s plan was working as the men rallied to the banners, but the
other companies were struggling to make the same level of progress in the dim, early
morning light. Ligertwood set his sights on the final objective and once more
roused his men. On they went, step after muddy step, while
the German resistance mounted. Gunfire burst out on every side and the other
companies, now lost in sprays of mud and water were completely bogged down.</span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt; text-indent: 36pt;">
<span style="mso-fareast-language: EN-GB;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">Peter marched on but his luck would not hold and he was hit. He paused,
winded but ok. The adrenaline masked the pain. He carried on, but being at the
front is a dangerous position and he was struck again, twice, in quick
succession. The blows were nasty but he was still alive and determined to reach
the target. He was compelled to drop back in the line, but forced himself to continue only to be hit a fourth time
and to lie in the mud. Still Peter tried to rise as the machine guns raked the
ground, but he could not do so. He croaked instructions to one of his sergeants and then pointed to the German line saying, “There’s
your objective lads; get it.”</span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt; text-indent: 36pt;">
<span style="mso-fareast-language: EN-GB;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;"></span></span> </div>
<span style="mso-fareast-language: EN-GB;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">Chronicler Douglas Jerrold
wrote that it was, “one of the finest exploits of that fated day.” As Peter
sank backward the red banners advanced across the Ypres mud and widened
Paddebeek stream. The right pressed forward and captured a strongpoint and on
the left another success. In the centre the Germans “from countless pillboxes
and redoubts, rained like hail on the dauntless men.” Wrote Surgeon Lt Geoffrey
Sparrow. Some time later it became clear that the attack was being held in the swirling rain and
iron storm. A company reached their target and defended their position. Only
one man, their courageous leader, was killed on that march, and such a testament cannot
be bettered.</span></span><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;"><span style="mso-fareast-language: EN-GB;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span></span>Three of the sacred
banners also survived the attack and the war, and one may still exist at the
Royal Marine museum. Afterwards it was said they inspired the men of Flanders
and filled future generations with pride for their Corps who's traditions
cannot be touched any other regiment.<span style="mso-fareast-language: EN-GB;"><o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt;">
</div>
<span style="mso-fareast-language: EN-GB;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">Tragically the
attack of the 26<sup><span style="font-size: x-small;">th</span></sup> failed to achieve all of its objectives. Some
units were even forced to pull back later in the day. The notorious battles of
Passchendaele followed but on the 6<sup><span style="font-size: x-small;">th</span></sup> of November the 1<sup><span style="font-size: x-small;">st</span></sup>
and 2<sup><span style="font-size: x-small;">nd</span></sup> Canadian Divisions finally captured the village of
Passchendaele, at a cost of almost 16,000 lives. In the Spring of 1918 a
reinforced German army retook all of the land.<o:p></o:p></span></span><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt;">
</div>
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">Captain Peter Ligertwood, the older brother of my Great
Grandfather, died in the mud on the 26<sup><span style="font-size: x-small;">th</span></sup> October, 1917. 100 years ago
today. <o:p></o:p></span><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt;">
</div>
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">Through mud and mire and steel rain, bursting from the
darkness, he fought and won and lost. His actions are recorded. His commitment
to preserve life among the death of war, honoured. <o:p></o:p></span><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt;">
</div>
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">His vision, determination, gallant leadership and noble
ending chronicled as another tale of a time now out of memory but not
forgotten.<o:p></o:p></span><br />
<br />
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhDENf2u9sYBY_SdVC64okrCygK6-AWvaFzGPfr3gxTQ-X_sQbbBEl3roQDEWmse__tSt2adpFH4gQevHzt2To_454b33yYR3NYgUBFQVczWnqVHsP-DwRTm9pbZL72JFcYdjqj_3LvY3s/s1600/Captain+Peter+LIGERTWOOD.PNG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="415" data-original-width="636" height="416" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhDENf2u9sYBY_SdVC64okrCygK6-AWvaFzGPfr3gxTQ-X_sQbbBEl3roQDEWmse__tSt2adpFH4gQevHzt2To_454b33yYR3NYgUBFQVczWnqVHsP-DwRTm9pbZL72JFcYdjqj_3LvY3s/s640/Captain+Peter+LIGERTWOOD.PNG" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Officers of the 2nd Royal Marine Battalion, mid-October, 1917. Lt. Peter Ligertwood circled.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
Jonny Bayeshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04135597462784750082noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-639799401582181469.post-46109499797902126172017-10-22T12:16:00.000-07:002017-10-22T12:16:38.782-07:00The Hardest ThingSomeone once asked me,<br />
"What's the hardest thing in life?"<br />
I don't know what I said then,<br />
But I think I know the answer now.<br />
<br />
The hardest thing in life is knowing that for someone else life is harder.<br />
Someone else will have less money in their pocket,<br />
Less food on their table,<br />
No table.<br />
Someone will have a colder house,<br />
A colder room,<br />
No room.<br />
<br />
That person started life just like me,<br />
How have I ended up with more?<br />
<br />
<br />
I'll give my donation to the food bank,<br />
Support a charity helping people out of debt,<br />
But as long as I have more that will not have made my life easier,<br />
Because the hardest thing in life is knowing <br />
That for someone else <br />
Life is harder.<br />
<br />
<br />
I live in the United Kingdom,<br />
I have a house and a wage, which combined put me in the richest 7% of the world's population, <br />
Maybe higher.<br />
<br />
It's said the 8 richest people in the world own the same amount as the poorest 3.5billion.<br />
I can't do anything about that.<br />
I'm not into dragging people down.<br />
But if I do not reach below me and lift up someone every day, my life will not be worth the extra pint of milk I bought, just because I can,<br />
And far less than the priceless smile that could make a hard life less hard <br />
For a moment.<br />
<br />
Jonny Bayeshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04135597462784750082noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-639799401582181469.post-35996176864542056062017-09-07T13:10:00.000-07:002017-09-07T13:10:35.927-07:00The satisfaction of a houseSo, I just bought a house - well I bought about 18% of a house and acquired a large debt, but we'll move past that. It's the first house I've ever bought and to say I've blagged my way through the many-month-long process is putting it lightly. Smile, nod and say "yep, great" a lot has been the theme. I gave up trying not to sound like a total idiot on the phone, early on, and accepted that I needed to be talked to like a six year old about all matters relating to mortgages and legal procedures and pretty much everything else. It almost got to the point where anyone could ring me up and tell me I needed to pay three-and-a-half million pounds in order for them to find out where my drains are and I would have said, "okay, here you go." (I've bought the house now though, so don't get any ideas!)<br />
I didn't really know how I'd feel when I finally picked up the keys. Truthfully, as it happened, I felt more consternation than elation. Having a house is a bit more responsibility than I'm happy with. Plus, it brings an end to a period of my life (seven years no less) that will become widely known, no doubt, as the Rental Years. This is both a good thing and a bad thing. Now when I hand over large sums of money each month I'm actually getting something to keep, but it also means a cutting off of many happy years living in other people's houses, sharing kitchens with friends and playing games late into the night.<br />
Of course I like my house, it's nice, but I know it won't satisfy me, because I'm human, and nothing satisfies us for more than a few weeks, we always want more. For certain, at some point I will move out again, and the house will be used by someone else, in way it is not really mine at all. At the same time, I know that owning a house sets me a long way apart from a large percentage of the world, many of whom can only dream of such a luxury. The injustice of this shames me.<br />
It may sound like I can't wait to get rid of this house, but that's not true. Instead it's like this: I know that the satisfaction of a house is not in the owning but in the sharing; not in what it means to me, but what it can mean to others. I'm not very good at inviting people, though, so you'll have to do that yourself.<br />
Jonny Bayeshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04135597462784750082noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-639799401582181469.post-85487711880032094732017-08-22T00:44:00.000-07:002017-08-22T00:44:02.737-07:00Cosmic Coincidence?A beautiful total eclipse crossed America yesterday. How awesome is it that the Moon is exactly the right size and distance between us and the Sun to perfectly block out our nearest star!<br />
Some chap on the BBC called it a 'cosmic coincidence'. I guess some people will never believe in an architect, no matter how massive the evidence.Jonny Bayeshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04135597462784750082noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-639799401582181469.post-3490116437403380692017-08-14T05:03:00.000-07:002017-08-14T05:03:21.853-07:00The RaceThere is something about watching a race, something compelling. Athletics has something no other sport has. It is perhaps the purest sport. Just one man against another. One woman becoming Number One. Chasing down the clock to be the fastest in the world. And whether you're there, track-side, or shouting at the TV, every spectator feels like they have a part to play. There is a thrill, a vibrant energy in urging every runner to push beyond themselves, to run harder, to persevere, to finish the race.<br />
<br />
However, there is a dark truth about athletics, and it's not drugs or cheaters, but the truth that we can never know for certain who the fastest person in the world actually is. There are more than 7 billion of us, so there's a good chance that one of us, given the training and the resources and the opportunities could go faster. Maybe that's why the sport has struggled recently, even in the absolutes of a photo finish or a runaway leader, there are uncertainties. Who is the greatest athlete ever? How do we answer this? <br />
Fortunately, success can be measured in more than one way. Winning, yes, but also individually - a runner achieving their best, or catching everyone by surprise, defeating giants. Or simply getting up when they've fallen, battling back from life's painful moments, overcoming adversity.<br />
And this is a success we can all feel. Perhaps not on the running track, but in the race of life. Whether you're just leaving the starting blocks, rounding the bend, hurdling barriers or flat out on the home straight. Not all of us will have the glory or the limelight, but we can outdo ourselves, rise above our expectations, or the expectations of others. Challenge and defeat those who would bring us down, and at the same time encourage, support and lift up others; carry along the ones who feel like they cannot make it and are on the ground. Until, ultimately, we come to the finish line.<br />
Jonny Bayeshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04135597462784750082noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-639799401582181469.post-40878172297710455842017-07-27T04:18:00.002-07:002017-07-27T04:18:48.462-07:00Not the NewsThings that are not News:<br />
A sick baby<br />
A drunken celebrity<br />
Someone's pay check<br />
<br />
Newspapers used to print short fictional pieces alongside their news headlines, now they don't have to because the 'news articles' are the stories. As humans we thrive off stories. We like to follow them, see them develop - what will be the next part of the drama, and that's alright when it's made up, but when it's just someone's life, a) that's a private affair (or should be) and b) why should I care, I have my own life to deal with.<br />
The News should be things that affect a large portion of society, and if the Newspapers and the TV and the Radio, can't find things to fill their columns and timings then they should just stop talking. Put some nice pictures in of penguins or something. It would certainly be happier to look at then the endless misery the reporters seem to drum up.<br />
<br />
Have a nice summer!Jonny Bayeshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04135597462784750082noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-639799401582181469.post-655720100861746432017-07-06T12:00:00.000-07:002017-07-06T12:00:53.473-07:00On the naming of thingsI had a tree named after me recently, not merely planted in my honour (which is usually the sort of thing that happens when you're dead - although I'd still take it) but embedded in it's new plot of land and then proudly given my name, after which it was accidentally trodden on, but I think it survived. The whole scene was filmed on a mobile phone (of course) and the footage shown to me the next day by the novice gardeners.<br />
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I'm not generally into the whole naming of things, it gives them a personality they don't really have and a value they haven't really earned, but it's a human instinct. I think it gives us a feeling of ownership and therefore power or influence (although how you influence a tree I don't know). People name their houses, their cars, their laptops (yes, I've seen it done) even though it only heightens the sense of sadness when they inevitably lose it, break it, sell it or in some other means cease to have ownership.<br />
Meanwhile the naming of organisations, societies and events can take weeks and multiple meetings (and cost a fair amount too) all in an attempt to hook people in or provide some kind of importance or unity, which can work if the masses get involved. People can be very partisan these days. But then again, if the name is meaningless and it fails to attract attention you may as well give whatever it is you're naming a number and have done. The only things of any real importance, value and meaning are people. Of course, ironically, given the trend of parents attempting to be original, children being given numbers for names is now perfectly legitimate. MP Jacob Rees-Mogg has just named his new son 'Sixtus', and yes he is the sixth child, poor thing.<br />
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Jonny Bayeshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04135597462784750082noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-639799401582181469.post-88754103308074092512017-06-10T07:13:00.000-07:002017-06-10T07:13:06.141-07:00The Other NewsI picked up two bits of news this week that I think largely went unnoticed amidst all the other stuff going on in the UK, but both of which might have longer shelf-lives than the newly elected government.<br />
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Firstly, on Wednesday (7th) lunchtime, 50.7% of the UK's energy was supplied by wind, solar, hydro and wood pellet burning. This to me sounds like big news. 50% of Britain was powered by renewable energy for the first time! Add in nuclear, and by 2pm low carbon sources were producing 72.1% of our electricity!<br />
If that's not exciting enough the result of this was that prices fell to a 10th of their normal level - so we were saving the planet and saving people money. You just don't get these kind of good news stories, but the media barely seemed to notice. If nobody dies they're not interested.<br />
Now admittedly Wednesday lunchtime was both sunny and windy, but still this is brilliant, and it's not just in the UK. There are record levels of wind power being set all across Northern Europe! Now we just need the rest of the world to get on board.<br />
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Secondly, Boeing is researching the possibilities of having commercial-passenger jets piloted by computers (or artificial intelligence). Now, you might think the biggest concern here is 'can they make it safe?' And yes, that is one of the main questions they're trying to answer. But that was not my first thought.<br />
My first thought was, 'why?'<br />
Why do we need planes flown by computers when we have perfectly good pilots that do the job already, and what are all the pilots of the world going to do when they are usurped by this artificial intelligence? Go on jobseekers, I suppose.<br />
Actually, my issue isn't really with this specific story, but with the general trend of the world to replace humans with machines that do the same job. As far as I can tell, new technology that is actually useful are the things that help us to do jobs, not do the jobs for us! It's no wonder there are so many people out of work, and soon the pilots are going to join them. My commiserations if that includes you.<br />
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So, there you go, energy and the economy solved in one blog post. All we need are more wind farms and fewer bonkers ideas about having robots do everything for us. Now, back to work everyone, before you find a machine has taken over.<br />
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Jonny Bayeshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04135597462784750082noreply@blogger.com1