Every Little Bit Corrupts Absolutely.

Or conceivably, "Absolute Power Helps." But definitely not, "Every little helps," because it most certainly doesn't.

Not when, there's also that extra 'little' volume of nefarious surplus packaging or litter, plastering the local streets and pavements, clustering about the local vegetation, or simply blowing in the wind, uncertain as to which area of the local 'community' to 'best' blight.  There's that extra empty, boarded-up space in the high street, where once smaller, non-Tesco, shops existed. There's that extra 'little' volume of congestion upon the adjacent roads, as drivers hone in upon the area's solitary 'free'- but also timezone-massive- car-park. And there's that extra 'little' all-consuming desire to control absolutely everything in the retail markets. Incidentally, it's in my will, I refuse to be buried by Tesco. I'd rather just be dumped in the recycling bin.

Precisely, David Basanta

When John Emerich Edward Dalberg-Acton made his famous remark, "Power tends to corrupt, and absolute power corrupts absolutely," he would, thankfully, have had a far lesser insight into the prophetic truth of his own words than would have been the case were he alive today. Such corruption as we might daily, here in Big Society Britain, have to endure might even be regarded as a form of power-corrupted madness. But obviously not a form of madness that is deserving of any form of pity. More so contempt!

'My' town, you will by now have gathered, is just one of the many that has been almost completely subsumed by the blight that is Tesco. So, having watched the hugely disadvantaged competition quickly go to the wall, one might be forgiven for assuming that the damage, now 'complete,' stops here.

If you are ever surprised at the depths of dishonesty and subterfuge, to which 'mighty' business interests might stoop you shouldn't be. Remember that your one regularly-disillusioned mind is just that, 'one mind,' whereas the multinationals, in these cashing-in-times-of-austerity, will employ a veritable truckload of corruptibles in order to outflank the competition, and grab evermore of the goodies. I think Thatcher referred to these faceless would-otherwise-be-Nazis as, 'a think-tank.'

Should Julie Walters- the voiceover Julie Walters- ever happen to stray far from her cherished local delicatessen, perhaps in order to pick up another sizeable cheque, in the event of, say, a postal strike, she might, should a tiny section of her discerning soul remain intact, wonder at the ever-diminishing choice of produce, available upon the shelves of her nearest Tesco. She might care to note that Tesco, far from content with the seeming-total-obliteration of any fair competition, have taken to removing favourite brands and replacing them with Tesco's own brands, cheapening the ingredients as well as reducing the contents, but not necessarily the prices. Maybe she'll give one of her cheeky winks and, in a suitably sing-song voice, utter the 'immortal' words, "Every Little Helps," and the digits in her current account might adjust accordingly.

Unlike JW, George Osborne is never likely to attract the same sort of contempt, when he deals in subterfuge and dishonesty for personal gain; and just to clarify, this is exactly what so much advertising is. Obviously with George, if he's speaking then he's lying, or evading, or misdirecting; at absolutely no time in his public life have we been given cause to expect anything other than subterfuge from Georgie Boy. Presently, he's continuing to lie us into an unprecedented triple-dip recession that is showing no signs of relenting, despite having endured for some eighteen months longer than the former Great Recession of the 1930's, just so that his millionaire-mates (not really 'mates', George doesn't have these) can continue subdividing the nation's wealth.

And a Nightingale sang...
arellis49

When one sees George smiling- is it even technically a smile?- if one is even remotely aware, one is likely to revert instantly to panic mode, or to be reduced to uncontrollable bouts of sobbing, or to be overwhelmed by an all-consuming sinking feeling of utter dread. Thus, when he did just that ('smile') the other day, during the BBC's Breakfast news programme, I was instantly enveloped within a pulsating toxic plume of nausea. Daring, against my better judgement, to raise the TV's volume I soon learned that George, Dave and maybe Nick, if he continues to wear Dave's rectum as some sort of necktie, are on the verge of filling their families' pockets for generations to come. All hail the HS2! £32 billion, and already bracing itself for its mega-inflation to God-only-knows-what over the next twenty-years-and-counting. For those 'on the inside' decades of banquet-feasting development.

And for the rest of us? Community Charges might just need to sustain a tad of political fiddling. Democracy, it doesn't work if you don't participate, but if you do...

The scar that will tear the heart out of so much of what is left of the English countryside has been deemed so immense that even some of 'our' politicians are up in arms; invariably those who stand to lose half of their back garden, or conservatory, or who maybe don't have major share-holdings in one of the to-be-appointed-and-underwritten-by-the-tax-payer construction companies. I think George was so excited that he may have left a small damp patch upon the BBC's guest couch.

For the rest of us it's not even much consolation to have deduced that many of the feasting piggies will be dead before the monstrosity is complete. Whole government and construction company departments will, even now, be setting up misinformation centres, full of would-otherwise-be-Nazis, as we are left at leisure to contemplate the scale of such wholesale destruction.

Developing nicely, Greenpeace Finland

Fair East Anglia will, of course, be spared much of this agony. Our far, far smaller scale plundering takes the form of, 'the duelling of the A11.' With an 'estimated' cost to 'benefit' ratio of 20:1, and having, "escaped the cut in the government's Comprehensive Spending Review'" one should make the obvious conclusion; that big business and 'purchasable' politicians are yet again on the take. At a current cost of £134 million that means that 'we' stand to make £2.7 billion; that is until the formulated-working-delays-inflation eats away the entirety of this 'benefit'. To be underwritten as ever by the ever-gullible tax payer. One can but merely speculate as to exactly who might eventually stand to benefit most from this sort of thing.

Obediently ready to tow the line, the BBC reported- in order to fully allay any concerns by interfering conservationists, you understand- that all 'due' measures were already being undertaken. Badgers and newts, worry you, not! No more 'reputable' a body than The Highways Agency itself has everything 'nicely' in hand. It is currently endeavouring to ensure that, "Newt Fencing will remain in place, allowing captured newts and other smaller reptiles to be relocated to an area of safety, away from future construction activities."What a relief, we of the conservation-minded will be thinking...

Or maybe not! "To be relocated to an area of safety," non specified?

Perfect, Terry Freedman

So, if it's an area, "of safety," suitable for these newts how come there aren't already newts there? I mean, if it's that suitable then nature will naturally have worked her wonders and populated the area with the appropriate numbers of newts, won't she? And, if she already has- as common sense would seem to suggest- factoring in all of the variables affecting the size and potential growth of the current population, won't the resident population already have expanded to the optimum size for the area of suitable habitat?

No worries, The Highways Agency already has all bases covered. The Highways Agency? Really? Either that or one of those misinformation centres is already up and running like clockwork.

The Highways Agency, "Every little helps," but who's it helping and at who's expense? What do you think, Julie? Something to ponder, "For the journey."

Pin The Tale On The Donkey

Have you ever played that rather quaint children's game, 'Pin the Tail on the Donkey?' Perhaps it's no longer one of the current party games of choice; perhaps the little mites just plug themselves in to the nearest computer terminus and, 'Hey Presto!' festivities sorted... until feeding time. What do I know? The question, however, so far as this blog is concerned, still stands; have you?

If you haven't, please allow me to elucidate. It's a game whereby blindfolded children take turns at attempting to pin a mocked-up tail upon a large picture of a donkey. The idea, quite obviously, is to get the tail as close as possible to its correct location. It's a simple and almost self-explanatory game that would serve well at any party where several of the children might communicate primarily in different first-languages. The game really is that simple!

Presumably one could easily adapt the game, should a party theme dictate; maybe 'Pin the Tail on the Elephant,' or 'Pin the Tail on the Aardvark,' or 'The Alien,' anyway, you get the drift. As long as the creature in question possesses the requisite tail the rules are entirely the same, always remembering, please, that the original form of the game was very much a donkey based affair.


Much thanks to The Prime Minister's Office

So, why the poor donkey? Clearly, there's the possible 'link' to the writings of the great AA Milne. There's even a chapter, in Milne's first book about Pooh, where Eeyore loses his tail. The chapter in question is the fourth in the volume, 'Winnie the Pooh,' and is helpfully subtitled, 'In which Eeyore loses a tail and Pooh finds one.' My respect for the talent of AA Milne prevents me from further elaboration. If you have not already done so I suggest that you take the time to read the section. It's only about ten pages long and the dilemma is beautifully resolved, in words that most us can only ever dream of committing to paper. Whilst you're at it make time for the whole book and then find the time for 'The House at Pooh Corner.' What better way to spend a few hours? Incidentally, there is evidence out there to suggest that the game actually predates the writings of AA Milne.

I'm not the only person to have wondered as to the origins of the aforementioned game; I've mustered a cursory search and have unearthed a few interesting sites that you might care to peruse, should curiosity endure. What I was unable to unearth however, yet had half expected so to do, was some sort of reference to the donkey's implied- but clearly undeserved- lack of intellect, some sort of reference to a requisite level of stupidity that might be required in order for the creature to have lost its tail in the first place.

And thanks, also to bagsgroove

But, alas not! Which is a tad unhelpful with regards to the somewhat tenuous link that I'm about to make.

Maybe the children's game is every bit as popular as ever it was. Introduce any basic sort of challenge- especially one whereby all of the children feel that they might have a half-reasonable chance at success- and I'm confident that they'd be more than happy to give it a go. The 'donkey' doesn't even need to be unduly realistic, just large enough for the watching-waiting children to see how well their friends and competitors are fairing. And what's really great is that the winning is almost an irrelevance.

But then there's, 'Pin the Tale on the Donkey'. At first glance it's somewhat similar and indeed the rules, once recognised, are not much more difficult to comprehend. But, otherwise, short of the one obvious similarity in the title, all other comparisons may not be immediately obvious.

Thank you bedrocan

I was witness to just such a 'game' the other night, during a news item on 'BBC Look East' (10th January 2013) and, whilst there wasn't actually a donkey involved there was a particularly stupid or, perhaps more accurately, sinister creature serving in its stead; one upon which 'the tale' had already duly been very precisely pinned. Once one recognises the nature of this particular variant of 'Pin the Tale on the Donkey,' one is, I have found, inclined to notice similar 'games' cropping up almost everywhere.

Allow me, once again, to elaborate. For this 'game' the donkey will definitely no longer suffice; the substituted creature needs to be able to talk, to 'communicate' (or mis-communicate), thus limiting the choices immediately to something human(ish). For example, on the BBC's 'Look East Dr Tim Wreghitt very 'sportingly' stepped up to the mark; he played the role of the donkey, or intellectually challenged pinnee. The pinner in this variant needs to remain, superficially at least, anonymous. Although, all too often, and with very little practice, I have found that one is invariably able to take a reasonable stab at exactly who might have done the 'pinning.' In case you haven't already worked it out the tale, in this instance, is not actually pinned onto the pinnee, rather it is handed to him or her, in the form of a statement, to be delivered to the wider public. The 'game', if game it can be considered, involves us, the wider public, attempting to decipher the statement. Our role is in teasing out the subterfuge from the reality. Ever the case, isn't it, with anything even remotely political?


Thanks again to The Prime Minister's Office

In brief, Dr Tim Wreghitt was the donkey charged by JC, The Health secretary, with the task of 'justifying' a further depletion of the teetering shell of the NHS, by yet further undermining the care  provided by Southend Hospital. In this instance he was required to 'defend' a decision to close the hospital's phlebotomy department, 'explaining' that a far more 'efficient service' could be provided by Bedford Hospital, almost on the doorstep, at just two hours- traffic permitting- drive away. Incidentally this is a blood testing system that neither JC nor Dr Tim will be required to rely upon. Dr Tim went on to waffle around the issue of lost jobs, one of which will not, of course, be his. So quite a tale indeed.

Honestly, this 'game's' nowhere near as much fun as its predecessor. But then, in this unfortunate 21st Century version of the 'game', the winning has entirely overridden all those other considerations.

Understanding the 'game's' basic premise, saunter back a while with me, to the recent NRA response to having just witnessed twenty-seven of its Connecticut citizens slaughtered at the barrel of a Bushmaster AR-15 automatic. The NRA very quickly managed to find an absolute donkey, upon which to pin their jaw-dropping tale. CEO Wayne LaPierre 'sportingly' played the part of the ass, sorry donkey, whilst the tale swished and flicked and spat poisonously at all onlookers in the form of the claim that, "The only thing that stops a bad guy with a gun is a good guy with a gun." Wayne, seemingly unaware of the ass's ears sprouting ever more prominently from the sides of his vacuous skull, went on to advocate the arming of all schools. Thanks for that Wayne. What could possibly go wrong? 

Me, I was slightly unclear as to exactly where the 'fine line' between "good guy" and "bad guy" should be drawn. I was sort of assuming that there might have been a time when young Adam Lanza was roundly thought of as a "good guy."

Obviously the "good guy" label had most definitely been applied to Malik Mumtaz Hussein Qadri, the elite body guard of Pakistan's Punjab Province's Salman Taseer. And this label was still thought relevant, right up to the moment that he wavered and shot Salman Taseer twenty-six times.

Was this man not selected entirely for his "good guy" credentials, before he suddenly became a "bad guy" and turned the gun on his charge? I thought NRA Wayne was more than a tad unclear on this point. Exactly how does one detect the precise moment when the "good guy" reverts? And will there always be an un-reverted "good guy" at hand to swiftly dispatch the now "bad guy", before any harm is done? And who will be watching him, the just-having-saved-the-hour "good guy", just in case he should begin to waver?

Thank you ILMO JOE

My God, Wayne LePierre is right! We're going to have to start arming the kids as well, just in case you understand... In the face of this sort of 'logic' we might even find ourselves, albeit temporarily, in the same camp as Piers Morgan- heaven forbid!

To clarify, via the previous YouTube link- and you really should watch it- Piers (criminal phone hacker, insider trader, friendless vacuum and noxious specialist) miraculously and confusingly finds himself cast upon the higher ground. In the referenced (shall we call it) interview, the moral low ground is angrily, almost to the point of violence, dominated by one Alex Jones, another 'proud' NRA supporter. Watch him 'rationally debate' the issue, with a real sense of 'decorum' and a great deal of 'gravitas,' and consider; a "good guy" with a gun or a "bad guy' with an undoubted stockpile of deadly weapons? What do we think?

Alex Jones, pushing the US gun debate very much into the red zone!

And then, far more sedately British yet curiously with equally destructive intent, there's the Coalition Mid-term Report. Can you separate the donkey from the pinner of the tale? Of course you can. Now let's get down to the more serious business of analysing the tale, separating all of that subterfuge, the disingenuous and the outright lies, from the facts?

Happy New Year, everyone! Coffee?

The Current Drug of Choice.

I can still well recall when cafe coffee was deemed by most to be something of an abomination, something probably bought partially concealed within a cumbersome glass jar. It was something that was, I'd learned to presume, more to be endured than enjoyed. 'Twas curiously granular in texture, produced to resemble nowt more appealing than crumbled sun-baked earth. The odour that would then have been liberated, upon a swift twist of the lid and consequent puncturing of a foil seal- was there a seal way back then?- seemed selected entirely in order to repel those of a curious bent. Either that or else to firmly consolidate a mistrust amongst the more discerning consumer. Adding boiling water simply intensified its repellant qualities, to the point of inducing mild nausea. It therefore ushered the vast majority of then-beverage-seekers into the far greater camp of tea-drinkers. Not that tea, with its meagre dribble of milk- and frequently stewed to the colour of discarded engine oil- faired a great deal better.

Instant coffee, back in the day, was consequently deemed to be very much a no-go zone. Tea, even at its slicky worst, was marginally the more prudent choice, from within that extremely limited market. Should one have been preparing the beverage of choice at home, where milk might not have issued forth as if still rationed, tea was invariably a run-away winner! As for those mysteriously still opting for the 'lesser' preference of coffee, one would naturally have presumed a severely compromised pallet, perhaps brought about through the misadventures of smoking. 

Thanks to max_thinks_sees

It wasn't until many years later, having finally fledged the nest, that I was even made aware of the concept of 'real coffee', a fallback term that I still occasionally use today. Any first, and highly tentative tastings would have been undertaken entirely with minimal expectations, perhaps more through accepted youthful challenge than with any genuine hope of reward. Perhaps I had then been seduced by other new-to-the-pallet and more exotic flavours, perhaps the task had been approached as if through the illusory veil of an alcoholic stupor. I can no longer rightfully recall, but I suspect that some form of curry would have featured in the proceedings. Either way it was undoubtedly the case that the British menu was teetering very much upon the cusp of a new dawn. And, thank Christ for that one would have been fully justified in concluding!

Who could resist such temptations? I certainly couldn't. 

Several decades later we find ourselves with very different expectations, regarding both the far wider selection of global foods and the often mind-boggling variety of available beverages. For those of us who now partake of the occasional coffee it is probably fair to write that a seriously rank cup is almost unheard of, perhaps with the notable exception of that served at certain service stations. Cafe coffee these days, invariably, widely reflects the tastes of a far more discerning clientele.  

This written, it would be only just to point out that coffee supped in comfort and the right atmosphere might illicit a far more favourable reaction than that supped in less sumptuous environs. But, in so far as this blog entry is judging- and it sort of is- it is the coffee that ultimately counts and outweighs all other considerations. Coffee, as many of us now know, possesses such alchemic qualities as to justify such outrageous claims.

So it befalls me to comment upon my encounters with the delicacy that is coffee, as undertaken in my cycling exploits on and around the North Norfolk Coast. Please note that it is not here my intention to damn any cafe or other establishment, rather to highlight one or two particularly outstanding providers. If it is below mentioned then I would claim it is worthy of your patronage, especially if you happen to be cycling, perhaps even worthy of a minor adjustment to your route. 

It goes without saying (or typing) that coffee chains have actively been avoided, unless you count any National Trust outlet. Thankfully the big names (Starbucks, Costa, Cafe Nero) don't seem to feature, outside of Kings Lynn or Norwich. 
   

Thanks also to antwerpenR            

Titchwell RSPB Visitors' Centre Tearoom. Should the weather be kind enough you may wish to sit outside and watch wild birds massing at the feeders provided. For the bird enthusiast this is more rewarding during the winter, what with the occasional Brambling dropping in. The preference of the non-birder might well be to sup inside. *** 

The Victoria, Holham. Staff may well claim that this establishment offers the best cup of coffee on the North Coast and it is rather good, but is it really the best? ****

Wells Deli. There are just a few, quite cramped seats inside, squashed up against the window, that look out onto the harbour. But often supping outside might be the better preference anyway. ****

Blakeney Seafront Caravan (at the edge of the car park). I'm not actually sure what this place calls itself, indeed it may occasionally change hands, but the coffee remains reliably consistent. I don't think this establishment is open right through the winter, maybe because there really is no alternative to sitting outside. Two points to note are that:
1. The wonderful collection of exotic wildfowl that used to provide much interest, whilst partaking of one's coffee, had all but been removed(?) the last time I was there.
2. Blakeney Parish Council, in the interests of no-one whatsoever, seems intent on pretending to serve the local community, by occasionally putting this plot out to tender. Hence, there may be, an unexpected change of face, making it all the more difficult for the souls in charge of this outlet to establish a reputation. *** 

Wiveton Hall Cafe (fruit farm), Blakeney. Easily missed! It is signposted but it's far enough away from the main road to be tucked out of sight. This, of course, is part of its charm and appeal. The food is also excellent, if a touch on the expensive side. Sadly not open through the winter months. ***** Competing strongly, during the summer, for the best cup of coffee on the north coast. The second image is of my elbow beside a cup of Wiveton Hall Coffee.

Picnic Fayre (Delicatessen), Cley. This place will certainly seduce you with its wonderful selection of foodstuffs. It serves, possibly, the smallest cup of coffee along the coast. Not always what you might have hoped for, when you might be gagging for a cup. **

Cley Marshes NWT Visitor Centre. Offers a fantastic panorama across the marshes. You may even get to sup your coffee from behind one of the telescopes set up for bird-watching enthusiasts. ****

The Cafe Racer, Salthouse. Coffee is provided from the back of a small van, often (but not always) parked almost on the beach at Salthouse. Obviously this coffee will have to be consumed in the open air. ***

I couldn't resist this mug either.

Byfords, Holt. Another delicatessen that will absolutely seduce you with its offerings, not least of which are its huge and wonderful coffees. Perhaps the largest coffees along, or relatively close to, the coast. *****

Wiveton Bell. A good option if you also fancy a plate of chips. Coffeewise it has the awkward challenge of being sandwiched between Wiveton Hall Cafe and The Art Cafe at Glandford, both of which are within easy cycling distance (but neither offers chips). ***

The Art Cafe, Glandford. Definitely not to be cycled past without due consideration, as I had mistakenly done far too many times before I chanced upon this establishment. A delightful place, with quite possibly the best coffee in the region of the north coast. *****

The Red Lion, Drayton. Strictly speaking, nowhere near the north coast, but I've ended up here on several occasions and its conveniently situated along The Marriot's Way, thus enabling one to cycle there without undue exposure to heavy traffic, always a major bonus. ****

The Old Reading Room, Tea Room and Gallery. Such a mouthful, don't you think? I've  only ended up here once, but I'd certainly stop again. Unusually, they don't provide lattes or cappuccinos but will attempt an approximation of the former with "a milky coffee." **

The Village Store, Weybourne. Outside seating is fairly adjacent to the road, but the road's never that busy. I think there may be just a few seats inside, along the window. Certainly one of the coast's best coffees, that I've yet encountered. One can also avail oneself of a loyalty card, thus every ninth coffee will be 'free.' *****

Clementines Cafe, West Runton. This friendly family unit will go out of their way to accommodate all manner of dietary requirements. They even serve gluten-free fish and chips once a week, but this may require ringing and thus planning ahead. ***

The Turret Tearoom, Felbrigg Hall. This is the one National trust stop that I have visited. Being National Trust the traffic is never going to impinge upon your coffee moment. ***

Poppylands Tearooms, Horsey. Hugely generous portions of food and a massive panoramic window, from which you might conceivably be lucky enough to see Common Cranes. I haven't, yet! I also think this establishment closes, except for at weekends, during the winter months. ****

Horsey Shop and Tea Room. This is the wooden hut-type place, beside Horsey Windmill. Sometimes there is no alternative to sitting outside and, again, I'm not sure whether it's open through the winter. From this place I have seen Common Cranes, albeit somewhat distantly. ***

Winterton-on-Sea Beach Cafe. This cafe is situated at the edge of the overpriced- aren't they all?- beach car park. Much like its rival, Poppylands, this establishment closes, except for weekends, during the winter. Strictly speaking, we're drifting round to the East Coast now. ***

Obviously I realise that I've missed out more than a few alternatives, but one cannot be expected to comment upon places that one has not visited, it just wouldn't be fair! And not a chain outlet in sight! 

The best of coffees might even deter the rant...