Scorchio!

Does anyone recall that sketch from the Fast Show in which the weather girl only said 'scorchio'?  Well the weather this March has been astonishing. Record high temperatures in Scotland, and sublime days everywhere else. Earlier I went to one of my favourite spots on the Offas Dyke path above the village of Tremeirchion. There can be few better places in north Wales to see a glorious sunset; the mountains of Snowdonia are crystal sharp against the orange sky.

Look west young man.

There's a woman in Caerwys that calls me Phil

There's a woman in Caerwys that calls me Phil. On my walks around the town I often meet a very nice woman with her two prize dogs. We pass the time of day; usual things like the weather or vet bills. This type of conversation has been taking place off and on for perhaps seven or eight years. For some reason from the beginning she started calling me Phil. Now I have a problem with names and would rather not use them until I get to know the person. I can't explain why. So I failed to correct her about the Phil thing. And after so many years it seems inconceivable that I should not have told her the truth. In the newspaper shop recently we happened to be there at the same time: 'Good morning Phil', says my cheery but unaware friend. The shopkeeper (who knows me well) looked bewildered, as well he might. So I am faced with a minor social dilemma: should I confess that my name is not Phil (nor ever has been)? Or should I carry on and for a tiny part of my life actually be Phil? Answers on a sealed down envelope.

A Doll's House

"Why shouldn't I look at my dearest treasure? - at all the beauty that is mine, all my very own."
- Henrik Ibsen, A Doll's House, Act 3
Note the theme of the last two blogs: feminist. The last showed an example of how women were paid less than men for doing the same job, and this was happening in my own life time. Tonight I went to see A Doll's House by Henrik Ibsen, written in 1879. This time the inequality suffered by women went even deeper; the leading character - Nora - was unable to borrow money to save her ailing father, and even her husband who was also ill. In the end she got money from a third party, but only after signing a contract that bound her to fulfill impossible conditions under the circumstances. This experience drove Nora to question the entire basis and value of her life. The play at Theatre Clwyd was brilliantly performed as usual; if you have not seen it yet, do.

Women's pay

I was reading some newspaper cuttings from the 1940s when this small article caught my eye. It was a small, seemingly inconsequential note about a London council awarding war bonuses to its employees. However, they were discriminating between the pay of men and women: men got bigger bonuses, presumably for doing the same job. This type of pay discrimination was outlawed in the 1970s, but in the 1940s it was accepted practice:

My scarf

My scarf says it all.

Today I faced a dilemma.  Everton were in the quarter finals of the FA Cup, and Wales were playing France for the Grand Slam. Going to Everton would mean missing the Wales game. So what should I do? I admire rugby very much, especially the present Welsh team, but really the Everton game meant more. So I got my ticket for Goodison Park and had to make do with the radio commentary from Cardiff on our way home. Culturally, football (or soccer) has always played a much larger role in my life. I was brought up in Wales, but with a clear view of the great city of Liverpool. When I looked across at the lights of Merseyside I used to imagine that the brightest came from Goodison Park. In school we only played football, and almost everyone naturally followed Everton. So I am delighted that Wales beat France to win the Grand Slam, but a more significant part of me wishes that Everton could have beaten Sunderland to reach the FA Cup semi finals.

Everton 1 Sunderland 1

FA Cup quarter final day and Sunderland face the mighty blues. There was an amazing atmosphere at Goodison Park today - all the tickets had been sold in hours. Thousands of colourful and noisy Sunderland fans packed the Bullens Road stand. The game itself was closely contested, but Everton played the best football, and should have progressed to the semi finals. However Sunderland defended well; indeed they went ahead early in the first half, only for Tim Cahill to score a typically brave headed goal before half time. I suppose Everton's best chance has gone; the game at the Stadium of Light the week after next will be tough. Nevertheless, Everton showed today that they have the better footballing skills, so we can still hope.

A view from the terraces.

Hardly exciting: build your own air raid shelter (re-visited)

Sorry Tom, but this view of the second world world war as somehow being an exciting time has caught my interest. My previous post on this theme looked at the construction of a cage to protect ones bed, creating a terrifying impression of sleeping in a zoo or nightmarish prison. Reading government produced information leaflets on this must have brought the fact of war literally home to the people of this country, perhaps for the first time. The pamphlet I have on building an air raid shelter at home pulls no punches. In order to demonstrate the success of these 'bed cages' the good people at the Ministry of Home Security blew up a typical family house to test their design to the full. I am not convinced that these images would have done anything to calm the anxieties of the people. The pamphlet claims that despite the entire house collapsing on the 'bed cage', it was possible 'to get out unaided'. I might be suffering from 21st century cynicism, but it seems hardly credible. I have included the page from the information pamphlet for you to decide:

X marks the spot: sleep well