I've just returned from a couple of weeks in Bolgatanga in northern Ghana. Even though the rainy season is over, the hospitals are packed with those ill with malaria. Even though local people have a certain amount of immunity, one Ghanaian nurse told me that most get it several times a year. For the young and the old it can be fatal. Thousands die each year. For those who just get ill, it saps one's energy for several days. Even two of the white people I was with succumbed to it despite being on anti-malaria pills which the local people can't take because of the long-term side-effects.
So, I was very pleased to read a report in today's Independent that suggests a malaria vaccine might be only five years away. This will not only save lives but a huge amount of resources too. And the people will feel a whole lot better, though they couldn't be any friendlier.
Tuesday 9 December 2008
Wednesday 29 October 2008
Jonathan Ross
Jonathan Ross is an intelligent and articulate man with a sharp wit. The more's the pity that so often this wit is used to fuel a macho and often puerile sense of humour. He and Brand clearly overstepped the bounds of decency with the comments they left on Andrew Sach's answer phone even though some have gone somewhat overboard with their holier-than-thou criticisms.
However, I don't agree with those who say that people like Ross and Brand shouldn't be on the BBC. We don't want Ross and Brand to be replaced by Dross and Bland. There's room for an edgy kind of humour and it's proved popular with listeners. In this case, the sequence should simply have been edited out. Critics of the BBC should note that it's a good thing that producers are left with the freedom to edit their programmes without continually having to refer up. However, the down side of this is that when they don't refer up when they should have done, you get an out of proportion reaction. I don't think heads should roll over this other than the producer at fault. However, a large section of the public is smelling blood and the BBC will undoubtedly cave in and sack some assistant head as is their wont.
However, I don't agree with those who say that people like Ross and Brand shouldn't be on the BBC. We don't want Ross and Brand to be replaced by Dross and Bland. There's room for an edgy kind of humour and it's proved popular with listeners. In this case, the sequence should simply have been edited out. Critics of the BBC should note that it's a good thing that producers are left with the freedom to edit their programmes without continually having to refer up. However, the down side of this is that when they don't refer up when they should have done, you get an out of proportion reaction. I don't think heads should roll over this other than the producer at fault. However, a large section of the public is smelling blood and the BBC will undoubtedly cave in and sack some assistant head as is their wont.
Tuesday 2 September 2008
Football Crazy
So, the Tectonic Plates within football have shifted again. Why, I ask as a lifelong Man United supporter, did the royal family of Abu Dhabi have to buy City? What was wrong with Newcastle, Tottenham, even Liverpool? Whatever next? Will a syndicate of Martians buy Colchester United using kryptonite as currency? It's a funny game...
Tuesday 12 August 2008
Why I Love the Olympics
By chance I turned on the TV and the women's weightlifting was on. During the five minutes or so I could watch it, I saw a Chinese woman screaming at herself to get her adrenalin flowing before her lift. She then got to the stage of lifting the weight above her head, but couldn't stay still and staggered around like a drunkard before dropping it. A huge Turkish woman then burst into tears on her coach's shoulder because she'd achieved the silver medal. Such drama!
I know I'll never watch weightlifting again until 2012. The same goes for most of the sports outside of track and field. I never thought I could get so excited about the performance of a Scottish canoeist or a badminton player from Bedford. I remember some years ago when the nation stayed up to the early hours to watch our curling team at the Winter Olympics! I can't remember any of the rules of that sport any more, just as I will soon forget what an ippon is or what makes good dressage. Part of the beauty of the Olympics is its extraordinary variety enhanced by the fact it only comes around every four years.
I know I'll never watch weightlifting again until 2012. The same goes for most of the sports outside of track and field. I never thought I could get so excited about the performance of a Scottish canoeist or a badminton player from Bedford. I remember some years ago when the nation stayed up to the early hours to watch our curling team at the Winter Olympics! I can't remember any of the rules of that sport any more, just as I will soon forget what an ippon is or what makes good dressage. Part of the beauty of the Olympics is its extraordinary variety enhanced by the fact it only comes around every four years.
Tuesday 22 July 2008
Radovan Karadzic
Having seen the "disguise" that Radovan Karadzic used to evade capture for 12 years, I've suddenly realised where his henchman Mladic might be hanging out. Lambeth Palace.
Tuesday 8 July 2008
Bored Stefani
Having just watched the most enthralling Wimbledon Men's Final that many have suggested was the greatest of all time, I wondered exactly what stimulates Gwen Stefani. Every time the camera focused on the players' box, there was her husband living every point, while she looked bored, perplexed and wondering what she was doing there. Next time, Gwen, give your ticket to someone more appreciative. Like me, for instance.
Friday 23 May 2008
Bad Losers
As a supporter of Manchester United since the age of seven, I was in seventh heaven at their Champions League victory the other night. However, a word for Chelsea, John Terry and those dejected Blues fans who rioted after the game. Just before the penalty shoot-out began, ITV ran a trailer for the delayed News at Ten which was to follow the match's completion. Their lead story was about a seven-year-old girl who had allegedly been starved to death. As John Terry was preparing to take his ill-fated penalty, and I was preparing to cope with bitter disappointment, I kept thinking about how that news story put a mere football match into perspective.
Sunday 18 May 2008
Bad Poetry
This week the so-called world's worst poet, William McGonagall, had several of his poems sell for many thousands of pounds at auction, a little late for him as he died in poverty.
One thing that marked McGonagall out was his bravura and his choice of epic subjects. He would write about national events such as royal jubilees or disasters such as at the Tay Bridge. So, as a dedication to McGonagall, I've spent 15 minutes wondering what he would have written about today's tragedies. So....
"Oh the poor people of the lowlands of Burma,
How they are longing to be on terra firma,
While their government won't allow the outside world to help,
Leaving them to cry and yelp.
Meanwhile the people of Sichuan have suffered a mighty earthquake,
Leaving their houses like a flattened layer cake.
But at least their President arrived to give support and succour,
So where was the Burmese leader, the filthy f***er?
Well, maybe not.
One thing that marked McGonagall out was his bravura and his choice of epic subjects. He would write about national events such as royal jubilees or disasters such as at the Tay Bridge. So, as a dedication to McGonagall, I've spent 15 minutes wondering what he would have written about today's tragedies. So....
"Oh the poor people of the lowlands of Burma,
How they are longing to be on terra firma,
While their government won't allow the outside world to help,
Leaving them to cry and yelp.
Meanwhile the people of Sichuan have suffered a mighty earthquake,
Leaving their houses like a flattened layer cake.
But at least their President arrived to give support and succour,
So where was the Burmese leader, the filthy f***er?
Well, maybe not.
Tuesday 12 February 2008
Electronic Books
I read that some young Japanese do most of their reading on their mobile phones. Now you can buy electronic books that don’t flicker. These developments may bring advantages but, in my experience, so often technological advances involve a step backwards too.
I have just begun the arduous process of converting my vinyl LPs to digital format. Those who have done the same will know what a nostalgic experience this is. I refer not just to the pleasure of listening again to all those wonderful tracks that rekindle memories of lost youth, but also the whole rigmarole that used to accompany the listening experience.
First, there are the LP covers, often beautifully designed with witty liner notes and crammed full of pictures and information that is, unlike on their CD successors, readable without the need for a magnifying glass.
I remember the care I used to take over the handling of the records themselves; replacing polythene-lined sleeves to prevent static, having a separate arm on the turntable to remove dust, never stacking them on top of each other to prevent warping.
Then there was the importance I gave to the quality of the sound. Could I afford those top-of-the-range speakers that would enhance my listening experience? Should I invest in a more sensitive arm that would improve the performance of an already high fidelity turntable? Should I spend those extra pounds on a higher specification cartridge and stylus?
And what about the amplifier? I recall a friend telling me that he spent what to him was a small fortune on one that had valves because the sound was so much superior to solid-state.
He was “horrified” to discover the extent of this when he finally succumbed to the modern ones. He did so because he got tired of the valves regularly blowing. And therein lies the problem that technological advance so often brings with it; there’s a trade-off between convenience and quality.
Now, I listen to music either on the small, tinny speakers of my computer, the small tinny speakers in my car or the small, tinny earphones of my i-pod. I have accepted technical mediocrity.
The same holds for digital cameras. What I love about them is the instant access they give you to your pictures; no more waiting for the processing and printing to see whether the shot you took has come out the way you hoped it would. Converting from film to digital has reinvigorated my interest in photography. Not having to worry that each shot will cost money means I can take lots more. Has it improved me as a photographer? I’m not sure. Purists tell me that film is still a better medium and that the instant gratification of digital cameras makes you lazy. Perhaps they’re right.
I have a flat-screen TV. It’s beautifully stylish, light and so space saving. But is the picture better than my old, bulky Cathode Ray Tube set? No.
So, as I sit here watching the progress bar on my computer sucking out the dynamic range of my LP track as it converts it to an .mp3 file, I feel a sense of loss. Yet, at the same time, I’m listening to more music now than I have done in decades thanks to the new opportunities that digital files have opened up.
So, as I ponder the advent of the electronic book era, which I guess will eventually make books as we know them redundant, I can imagine missing the simple tactile pleasure that paper books currently hold for me; the look, design, the touch, even the smell. Yet I will marvel too at the fact that a whole library can be at my fingertips and that huge forests can be saved. Progress, almost inevitably, comes at a price.
I have just begun the arduous process of converting my vinyl LPs to digital format. Those who have done the same will know what a nostalgic experience this is. I refer not just to the pleasure of listening again to all those wonderful tracks that rekindle memories of lost youth, but also the whole rigmarole that used to accompany the listening experience.
First, there are the LP covers, often beautifully designed with witty liner notes and crammed full of pictures and information that is, unlike on their CD successors, readable without the need for a magnifying glass.
I remember the care I used to take over the handling of the records themselves; replacing polythene-lined sleeves to prevent static, having a separate arm on the turntable to remove dust, never stacking them on top of each other to prevent warping.
Then there was the importance I gave to the quality of the sound. Could I afford those top-of-the-range speakers that would enhance my listening experience? Should I invest in a more sensitive arm that would improve the performance of an already high fidelity turntable? Should I spend those extra pounds on a higher specification cartridge and stylus?
And what about the amplifier? I recall a friend telling me that he spent what to him was a small fortune on one that had valves because the sound was so much superior to solid-state.
He was “horrified” to discover the extent of this when he finally succumbed to the modern ones. He did so because he got tired of the valves regularly blowing. And therein lies the problem that technological advance so often brings with it; there’s a trade-off between convenience and quality.
Now, I listen to music either on the small, tinny speakers of my computer, the small tinny speakers in my car or the small, tinny earphones of my i-pod. I have accepted technical mediocrity.
The same holds for digital cameras. What I love about them is the instant access they give you to your pictures; no more waiting for the processing and printing to see whether the shot you took has come out the way you hoped it would. Converting from film to digital has reinvigorated my interest in photography. Not having to worry that each shot will cost money means I can take lots more. Has it improved me as a photographer? I’m not sure. Purists tell me that film is still a better medium and that the instant gratification of digital cameras makes you lazy. Perhaps they’re right.
I have a flat-screen TV. It’s beautifully stylish, light and so space saving. But is the picture better than my old, bulky Cathode Ray Tube set? No.
So, as I sit here watching the progress bar on my computer sucking out the dynamic range of my LP track as it converts it to an .mp3 file, I feel a sense of loss. Yet, at the same time, I’m listening to more music now than I have done in decades thanks to the new opportunities that digital files have opened up.
So, as I ponder the advent of the electronic book era, which I guess will eventually make books as we know them redundant, I can imagine missing the simple tactile pleasure that paper books currently hold for me; the look, design, the touch, even the smell. Yet I will marvel too at the fact that a whole library can be at my fingertips and that huge forests can be saved. Progress, almost inevitably, comes at a price.
Saturday 5 January 2008
Sex in the Dictionary
Sex may be in the dictionary, but it appears sexual discrimination also occurs there. I was writing a script this week about a celebrity who was knighted. I then wrote one about a female equivalent who was....given a damehood. Why can't a woman be damed? I suspect there are a lot more examples of this inequality. Any suggestions welcome.
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