The Sky's the Limit!

The Sky's the limit!

What a wonderfully aspirational line! Out there, in this brave new world, there may be no limits to what one may achieve. Set your sights to the very furthest of the horizons. For those who are prepared to work the rewards may be absolutely limitless. Perhaps even Mars may be that next horizon.

It's not actually the case, though, is it? Unless, maybe, we invert the 'imagery.' And tweak the translation. 

Imagine, instead, staring down into a puddle, perhaps upon a stretch of industrial wasteland... a wasteland, let us conject, that has been slowly poisoned into surrender through decades of unrestained, deregulated toxic abuse. We perceive this puddle as being of a curiously unnatural turquoisey colour, close and yet not close enough to anything that mother nature might hold within her pallet. 


There is a glistening sleekness to the surface, such as spilt oil might leave. A seemingly-almost-infinite array of abandoned plastic tat- partially submerged, afloat, encircling, or otherwise 'arranged' about the immediate area- has gathered about in order to further adorn the scene. McDonalds Happy Meals and Toys R Us feature proudly here, the whole Glimmie clan of several 'collecible' dozens may be found, and a vertable herd of My Little Ponies, several generations of Sylvannian Families. Everything has been coated under a fine grey dust, serving to mute the effect, and to bring about some sort of contradictory unity to the blaze. Empty Walkers crisp packets bumble across the land like so many abandoned kites. If the site is deemed worthy, maybe the very latest-bar-one model of Apple's iPhones will soon be welcomed with open arms, or at least a freshly dug pit, to their ancestral  home. Redundant Sky boxes nestle amongst pauperised TVs and other screens, usurped in turn by the newest, very latest in upgrades, none deemed any longer worthy.

And there, just there at the furthest shore, where the sub-soil-layer of supermarket plastic bags is just visible at the waterline, when the cold breeze desists and those blackened indeterminate flakes settle, there, peering deep into the murk we may glimpse the poorly reflected image of 'our limitless' Sky. 

Doesn't it look small?


Several years back I, solely as a fan of the game of cricket, decided to give Sky TV a go. I won't here revert to type and deride the then-government's God-awful decision to sell our national side to an Australian oligarch... leave it at that on the cricketing front. But I did then relinquish a teeny-tiny bit of my soul. 

So, there, in the package, we had high definition options- admittedly not quite as many as might be 'on offer' today- maybe a dozen rolling film channels, and those standard Sky options- Sky Atlantic, Sky Arts, Sky One and Two, a bottomless bargain bin of other tat channels, and four (was it) stations of continual 24-hour sport. 

Now, when I write 'sport,' what I more accurately mean is 'activity.' To describe the amorphous array of 'options' on offer as wholly sport really pushes the bounds of credibility way, way beyond... eh, credible. I think conkers and table subbuteo were in there somewhere, kite flying, arm wrestling, stuff! Stuff that nobody in their right mind would choose to watch! Was sewing in there... somewhere?

But, there was lovely test cricket! If memory serves, I also seem to recall that each and every ad break may not have been devoted to bolstering the UK's then considerably less-widespread gambling addictions. But that was then. And, it seemed affordable... obviously not as affordable as when the UK was able to watch its own national team playing at home via the BBC, or Channel 4, but (resentfully) affordable. 


Think of the package as a rather large cake. For the purposes of this allegory, think of it as tall and rich and currently uncut. Slendiferous! 

Some time after buying in there came the realisation that the cost, by stealth, was creeping upwards, although 'creeping' really doesn't quite describe the ascent. Most of the film options were eternally the same, on an ever-revolving loop- all of the most recent releases were only accessible via 'pay-to-view' options, anyway- so the film channels went. The depth and diameter of 'the cake' remained the same, but there was a hefty slice missing, or now set aside. Less for more! 

The chronology now escapes me, but many of the formerly-accessible high definition options were 'suddenly' on the wrong side of an emergent divide. Others, essentially high-definition channels, stealthily slipped through, and were gone... over to the dark side (newer package options). The cake was essentially the same cake- the 'potential' cake- but the slices, those upon my plate, were becoming thinner. And drier, and less appetising! 


As marvellous as cricket, test cricket, truly is, there were those moments when the never-ending football season would swell to swamp particular sports stations, that part that was actually 'sport.' There were the play-offs- surely defeating the objective of a league that has really already concluded, but never mind. There was the transfer window- window? What is happening, this isn't even actual sport, is it? And there were times when cricket was absent, not the stamp collecting, the tiddly-winks, or the blow football, but there was sometimes an absence of cricket, test cricket... and now for the cost of an oligarch's ransom!

So even the sport went. Thus, effectively removing that aspect of the package for which the deal was initially sought.

The remaining slice of cake was so thin as to appear almost as if not really there, wholly transparent in certain lighting conditions. Yet the ransom still kept creeping.

That one thin remaining slice of cake would bow in a gentle draught. 

So Sky was finally jettisoned! Or, that was the plan...


At which point the Sky became far darker and stormier. Should one accidentally assume too much freedom Sky will quite liberally wave the legal card... not quite so much about providing entertainment all of a sudden! 

One is expected, no required by diktat, to undertake 'a conversation.' The purpose of which is to convince one that Sky is not only essential to one's leisure time, but also suddenly again, and by some sort of miraculous process, almost affordably reasonable. And, should one be so foolhardy as to open that door a tiny chink, one might easily find that Sky is again on the payroll. Slightly cheaper for a short while, but soon to find itself back on that upscaled spreadsheet.

Look, just there, at the far shore, where the oil has accumulated- to the right of the tsunami of plastic straws, behind that raft of cotton-buds... no wait, the strange black flakes are settling- there, under the discarded, half-buried TV remote, there, isn't that the reflected Sky, just there?

Doesn't it look small...

and insipid... 

and such a pale imitation. 

What ever would one term that colour?

Center Sharcs!

I had always considered that Center Parcs was for 'somebody else.' That is to write that the 'holiday camp' type of appeal of such places was not entirely to my tastes, but this is not intended as a criticism of the parks, well, not this part of the posting anyway. No, just because the nature of these sorts of places does not appeal to me it does not necessary follow that the appeal is not there... it's just not for me.

I had seen with my very own eyes, sensed with my very own senses, that these Center Parcs were loaded with 'appeal.' I had been a day visitor on no less than three separate occasions. And on these occasions, all of them, I had experienced the great pleasure that the parks could afford families with children of that certain age. The enclosed aspect of the parks, the cosy and relatively secluded nature of the cabins, the fact that all that one should require for the duration of a 'short break' was contained upon the site, the fact that there was a bustling hub of multifarious activity freely to hand, all of this clearly had great appeal to the family unit with small children who might be in need of constant stimulation.  

When I had last been invited to attend it had been to visit my brother and his family, with two boys of 'just the right sort of age.' And, my brother still recalls his time at Center Parcs with great fondness. Without a similar family of my own to consider, I had always thought the prices somewhat overindulgent. I had always thought that I could travel half way round the globe for these sorts of prices. And, often I did! 

Yet, even so, my brother would point out that, abroad there would be considerably less on offer, and that abroad that which was on offer would be likely to be more dispersed, far less conveniently located for a family such as his. And, he was right of course!

Last week my daughter and her family spent a week upon the Elveden site. And I was given cause to further ponder both the appeal and the exploitation of that appeal. When she had said that she was thinking of such a visit I had recalled the praise of my brother, and I said as much. Of course, I wanted nothing more than for my granddaughter to have 'the time of her life!' 

When the holiday was over and I was reunited with my delightful granddaughter I asked her what she had most enjoyed and she recalled the, "Huge waves of the swimming pool!" But, as is often the way with small children, she  came at me from 'left field,' stating that the very best thing was the fact that every day, "Daddy made a new fire!"

 

So, on a slightly more negative note, allow me please to expand upon this 'open fire.' Center Parcs, or the Elveden line of this company, has a (is it a) rule upon the use of firewood, whereby bundles of this may only be obtained within the grounds, naturally at somewhat inflated prices. 

When I learned of this, it brought to mind the circumstances of the American Dust Bowl. The background to the Dust Bowl situation is openly in the public domain, so I shall skip to the part where we find tenant  farmers in the US being paid not in cash but in tokens. These tokens were accepted at the local store, but were otherwise completely worthless; naturally there would be significant mark-up over other shops in the area, where the tenant farmers might otherwise have elected to shop for their goods. 

I know that the parallel is perhaps an exaggerated one, but the principle is the same. The purchasers of such firewood are anyway not 'trapped' tenant farmers, and they may well choose to holiday elsewhere... but they are not yet quite free so to do. A point for exploitation not lost upon the management of Center Parcs.

So I looked at other aspects of park life, at what such inflated prices might afford the holidaying family. And I learned that families were given access to the wonderful forest. That would be the same forest that was freely available to the families outside of the park, in the wider and far more extensive Thetford Forest. 

Families were also given free access to the swimming pool. And the pool really is something of a pull! The pool is a wonderful place in which those families might spend hours, especially if one's family enjoys frolicking in choppy waters or travelling down exciting water slides. I myself have spent hours there. Everything else will cost you! Every other activity will add to the price of your already quite expensive holiday!

So, what of the time not in the pool? Or time spent bowling (cost not known)? Or what of the meals and the snacks and the other moments away from the waters and not strolling along pathways similar but more restricted than pathways outside of the park?

Well, there is a range of eateries, certainly enough of these to satisfy the tastes of most families and their variously fussy children. Try booking a table for four at one of the restaurants and it will set you back £20! Just to clarify this is twenty quid on top of the cost of the meal. 

"Twenty quid?" I puzzled! "Seriously, twenty pounds?" But, apparently it will cost you five pounds a head to pre-book any of the eateries, five pounds for my two-and-a-half-year-old granddaughter! Turn up on spec and it won't, but some families on holiday, especially where children are involved- that is pretty much all families here- set their sights on a certain menu. Why not, whilst on holiday? Why not eat what you, and especially your children, want to eat? So, five quid a head!

And, what about eating in your cosy cabin? Well, no bars here, how could there be? Except to write that all food must be purchased from the on site shops. 

This is sort of an exaggeration, but only 'sort of,' because the park tries very hard to inconvenience you if you should elect to do otherwise. Should you take your car beyond the park to buy food at another location, said park will not permit you to drive the load to your cabin. Petty, but also damned inconvenient! Perhaps the families should opt instead to stay on campus, pay those slightly inflated prices. It is only a week, or perhaps two. And, of course you've already spent £2,798 (based upon my spot check search, duration seven days).

Happy holidays! And the family did have a good one. It's just a shame that the Sharcs are not of a more benign nature, especially as they are in the business of selling happiness!  

Choose-your-ocracy

"Dead president's corpse in the driver's car, the engine runs on glue and tar."

"The minister's daughter's in love with a snake, who lives in a well by the side of the road."

"Blood is the rose of mysterious union."

"Drugs are a bet with your mind."

Jim Morrison  imparted a great deal of wisdom during his oh-so-short twenty-seven years. Amongst a vast array of 'insight,' he's often attributed with the quotation, "Whoever controls the media controls the mind." And, whilst it would probably be fair to point out that the media would have been but one of many things that might have, at some time or other, controlled Jim's mind, he finally might have hit the nail squarely upon the head with this one!

Just to pluck an example from the aether, let's go with TTIP and it's incestuous cousin ISDS, and the manner in which much of the general media have dealt with these innocuous-sounding initialisms. On Wednesday 19th November a Private Members' Bill was voted upon in the Houses of Commons. To flesh out the relevance of this bill/issue, I'll just point out that the vast majority of Private Members' Bills never make it onto the statute book. That is to say that they are seldom promoted to the level where they might eventually be permitted to affect 'our' political system. If an MP objects to any Private Members' Bill it is not uncommon for the MP to 'talk out' the bill, and for the bill to consequently vanish into obscurity. It's one of the very many ways in which democracy might be denied full and fair process in the UK. I think I'm being fair in suggesting that the vast majority of the general public would have been unaware of this vote, or of its immense significance for the future UK.



So, how have the misnomer Free Press been selling the 'virtues' of 'the twins?'
'Online Protest Delays EU Plan To Resolve US Trade Row,' was the Daily Mail take.
Nothing from The Daily Express, The Sun, or The Star.
'David Cameron Hails G20 Plan To Boost World Economy By £2 Trillion,' was The Telegraph's spin on things.
A more well-considered, 'Drop Trade Talks,' was The Times perspective.
Greater credit, as always, must go to The Guardian and The Independent, for their more extensive coverage.
Also opting for the higher moral ground, The Mirror went with, 'David Cameron Denies Claims America Trade Deal Will Allow US Firms To Privatise Our NHS.'
The Evening Standard 'boldly' braved a single reader's response upon its letters page.
'Irrational Fear Risks Depriving Europe Of Benefits Of Trade,' was the FT stance.
Thus, it would appear that some 76% of the UK newspaper readership- this based upon circulation figures- has been presented with arguments which either condone or evade the demise of 'our NHS.

For an age, prior to this buried Member's Bill (The National Health Service [Amended Duties and Powers] Bill) being discussed in the Commons, EU Ministers had been furiously and covertly preparing the ground for these two items to be brought into 'fruitful' practice. Had someone not thought to question the validity of either or both, then TTIP and ISDS might well have quietly become law within the EU, without ever bothering to trouble the democratic processes of any EU state. Perhaps a touch more Oligarchy than Democracy has been afoot.

The aforementioned Private Members' Bill was 'won' by a margin of 241 to 18 votes. Quite a majority, until one considers that 401 MPs didn't bother to turn up to listen or to vote. My informed contention is that the initial vote came down very much in the public interest, but that the absence of so many pretendedly-disinterested MPs should be regarded entirely as an alarming portent of what may yet come to be.



TTIP is a deceptive 'little' incendiary, aimed at ripping the still-beating heart from 'our' NHS; the Transatlantic Trade and Investment Partnership. Ultimately, what TTIP aims to do is to ensure that all areas of the EU market, including health, are open to private 'investment.' Obviously, I have used the term 'investment' in it's blackest sense, that as rabidly sought by profit-first-and-only multinational companies who may soon be able to wreak far more damage upon the remnant NHS than did all of those disastrous PFIs.

ISDS is the means by which 'investors' will be able to sue companies, notably the NHS, should private corporations not be given full business access to the target 'company' or establishment. Both TTIP and ISDS have considerable support from various corporate interests. It's interesting to note that whilst multinational and smaller corporate interests appear to have been kept fully abreast of proceedings, the general public, via it's 'elected' MPs, appears to have been kept largely in the dark! Perhaps then, far more Corporatocracy than Democracy has been employed.

If we should elect to factor in the number of MPs who have vested financial interests with private health care providers- 73 as of February 2013- and those in the 'Upper' Chamber- 147 as of the same date- then we might start to hyperventilate. I think it would not be unreasonable to assume that the number of Parliamentarians seeking to benefit from the impending implementation of TTIP and ISDS is currently significantly in excess of 220... and rising! *

Three days ago David Babbs, of 38 Degrees, sat before the Business Select Committee, in order to relay a growing public concern. In the very short BBC radio report that I've listened to the anger of MPs, that anyone should be impudent enough to challenge their autonomy, is almost palpable. One wonders how many of those on the Business Select Committee might already have their fingers in the 'cookie jar.' I find myself edging now towards Kleptocracy!



Yet again, Mr Cameron has the greatly-resented NHS firmly in his sights, for yet further 'efficiency savings;' £1.5 billion he claims TTIP will 'save' the NHS. And, what better way to 'reinvest' those 'savings' than in tax cuts- the eternal Tory bribe! The UK's lowest paid, we are encouraged to believe, may 'benefit' by up to £9 a week- although Lord alone knows how this will adequately compensate for a complete cessation of affordable healthcare- whereas those on a far more handsome £50,000 per annum will be benefitting by almost three times as much. The costs of these election bribes? Something in the region of £7.2 billion! Perhaps we are sliding from Kleptocracy and into the realms of Plutocracy!

And, at absolutely no point did any of these processes appear to so much as tip a hat in the direction of Democracy! Ultimately, I think I might describe this as living in a Coprophagiocracy!

 * In fairness and in the interests of furthering the democratic cause all links on this post are to the same Social Investigations site, and very informative it is too! Prepare a mug of coffee, pull up a comfy chair and prepare to be informed!

Seize the Moment.

07:45. Another day, another dollar, whatever that's supposed to mean. Resignation, as ever, looms largest at the outset.

This colder snap hasn't really helped- unless you happen to be a major share-holder in one of 'our' big energy companies- so I'll wrap up in a further layer, avail myself of a warm beverage and curl up around a book. Escapism, exactly the ticket. I just hope that, when I reach for the tea, I can still bend my arms.

Thanks to Sailing "Footprints: Real to Reel" (Ronn ashore)

Curse of the retired; no sooner have I settled, than the doorbell should ring out in 'cheerful' misrepresentation. So, to the door I should waddle, the option of walking having been sacrificed to that one further layer. Not even a parcel for me, merely a drop off for the at-work neighbours. Naturally there is a small admin charge, so not an entirely wasted journey- a tenner I consider, plucking a random figure from the ether. Postie isn't exactly over the moon but, as I am quick to observe, the Post Office is far from above such things. Perhaps I shall risk half an hour of heating, as due reward.

08:50. As the inside temperature returns to single figures I arm myself with bus pass and venture towards the city library.

09:50. Too slow to sidestep the clipboard-armed youth, a further ten minutes is devoted to the aspired boosted sales of some company of which I have never heard. Chancing my arm, I levy a small admin charge; "Time is money, my friend," I feel obliged to point out. And I'll forgo that chance to 'win' the placatory clothes voucher, thanks all the same. Things are looking up.

Thank you i.tokaris

It would appear that I am not alone in my yearnings for a smidgen of warmth. The library has been transformed. Are these not the same crowd, with which I once shared a Saga Holiday, albeit somewhat more subdued this time round? Colder too; on this occasion I'll give it another fifteen minutes, before I might venture to shed the outer coat.

11:25. Fortuitous indeed that the library is so conveniently adjacent to those public toilets. Curiously I appear to have passed more liquid than I have actually consumed, maybe my flask has acquired certain TARDIS-like qualities, or maybe it's an age thing.

Delaying the return journey, I opt to join the library; use it or lose it! Naturally there was a very small admin charge. Strictly speaking, it was a tiny bit of a liberty; I'd become obsessed with the ideas of rounding the day's takings up to thirty quid. "So, just the eight pounds, if you please."

17:30. The boiler is roaring, but the living room has barely crept above seventeen degrees. I daren't twitch the dial, so I cocoon myself within a further layer once again. Then I notice the post, which I can no longer bend to retrieve. What's this, 'Don't lose your right to vote!' Another admin charge, think I.

Tomorrow I shall be writing to my bank, to advise them that I am still in the black, despite the numerical protestations of my energy supplier. I believe the going rate is thirty pounds a letter.

Cold callers beware!