Mind-Boggling Ignorance

A few months ago a BBC News presenter blurted out in a heated altercation with a politician that she was paid £96,000 a year. She was not a ‘star’ presenter, just one of many news presenters appearing on the news channel. The stars get paid more, some a lot more.

But for nearly £100,000 a year, paid by all of us through our license fee, what can we expect ?

Well for a start the ability to read the news clearly. Sadly, some of them can’t even do that: they mumble and rush their way through their autocued script.

And secondly a reasonable understanding of the English language would help them to conduct sensible interviews. Half an hour ago I was astounded when a BBC News presenter clearly did not understand the meaning of the word ‘majority’.

She was interviewing Lindsay German, the leader of a demonstration that is being held in London today, calling for British troops to be withdrawn from Afghanistan.

News presenter: “What do you want to achieve ?”

Lindsay German: “Well what we want to achieve is to change Government policy, and bring the troops home. This is a majority opinion of the British people now......”

News presenter: “Well you were saying a majority. In a recent poll 56 percent were opposed (to the war), 37 per cent in favour..........It’s not quite a majority. It’s just over half.”

Lindsay German: “Well that’s a majority. A majority is just over half surely. Over 50 per cent is a majority”.

Mind-boggling ignorance.

Solicitors from Hell, an Irish Priest, Orwellian Phone Companies and Rusty Scaffolding

The solicitors from Hell made our moving day much more stressful than it need have been. The removal men had left and we were just completing our last minute checks when the phone rang. It was our Ramsgate estate agent. The solicitors had forgotten to get us to sign the Transfer deed without which the deal could not be completed. So we had to rush down to our agent’s office, sign the document in front of a witness, and it was faxed back to the Incompetents.

We got to our new house in Catford at 2pm. The removal men had already been there half an hour. I called our solicitors. Voice mail as usual. But when I phoned the Catford estate agent, he told me he had made contact with the Unprofessionals, and they said that, money having been received for our Ramsgate house, they had now despatched the dosh to buy our new home. But later it turned out they had lied. The money was not sent till much later. No matter how hard I tried to persuade him otherwise, the agent said he could not release the keys until the seller’s solicitor had received the money. So we just had to grind our teeth, and wait. Eventually at 4.30pm the keys were in our hands.

The removal men decided to try to make up some of the lost time, and set to work at a cracking pace (literally). They did not heed the proverb “More haste, less speed”. And as they tore about the house, they knocked a lump of plaster off the ceiling above the stairs, shaved a sliver off an antique desk, scraped the beautiful wooden floors and damaged two handles on a bureau.

Shortly after they drove off, the parish priest knocked on the door. He’d come to bless the house. He was Irish, friendly and very funny – hope he didn’t mind my asking if he did stand-up comedy in his spare time ! But the blessing was in earnest, and involved prayers, holy water and a visit to every room in the house. Father John had to rush off to another appointment so he missed out on a glass of champagne. But our new next-door neighbour, who had attended the house blessing, helped us to quaff the bottle. And what a bottle it was ! Louis Chaurey, Marks and Spencer’s finest (luckily at a discounted price !) Delicious. And just what we needed.

We were knee deep in boxes, but we are gradually getting things sorted out. And although we left a lot of furniture behind in Ramsgate, we still have too much – anyone want a solid wood kitchen table with 4 chairs or a nice coffee table from India ?! Our new house, you see, is much smaller than the Ramsgate one. But it is very attractive, and we already love both it and the very quiet tree-lined street it’s in. More like the country than London.

The house has got loads of original features including a splendid front door with stained glass, marble fireplaces and exposed pine floors. But less care has been lavished on the garden. At its centre is a rusty old children’s scaffolding. Our solicitor said he would ensure this was removed before exchange of contracts. I suppose he must have slipped up. So unusual.

On Thursday came an Orwellian experience with Sky , the media giant, who supply us with tv, phone and broadband services. The satellite dish for the tv was duly installed. But when the phone, which was supposed to have been installed on Wednesday, was still not operative on Thursday, I was forced to make a reluctant plunge into that modern torture chamber known as the call centre. Hours were spent being buffeted from one multi-choice menu to the next. Occasionally a human-sounding voice could be heard, and would divert me to another wrong department. On one occasion I even ended up in the wrong country – the Republic of Ireland ! Eventually I found this helpful bloke called Amir. But even he could not penetrate the minefield left by the Moving Home Department. Our order could not be processed because of a failure of communication between computers. Mere mortals could not sort out this gigantic cock-up. We would have to submit another order, which could take two weeks to process (and who knows how many pounds worth of mobile phone calls). “To be honest,” said this Sky employee, “You’d be better placing your order with BT. It’ll be much quicker”. But just as I was cancelling Sky, the bell rang and there was the engineer to fix the phone. Just like a French farce. “Cancel the cancellation”, I told Amir.

As for our Broadband, the engineer said as there had already been broadband service on the line, it should be possible to get it up and running immediately. Bravely I rang Sky again, and they said that an engineer would phone me back in the next hour or two to sort it out. Needless to say that didn’t happen, so I went to Currys and bought a mobile broadband USB stick. Slower than Sky broadband, but a lot better than dial-up.

Ah, the joys of moving house !

Written on Friday 4th September 2009

Farewell to Ted Kennedy

Been watching Ted Kennedy's funeral service in Boston and, earlier today, a recording of parts of yesterday's memorial service at the JFK Library. Struck by the genuine love felt for him by so many people. Deeply caring person, always looking out for others; first to pick up the phone to console a bereaved friend or colleague; even personally phoned the families of all 177 Massachusetts citizens killed on 9/11; acting like a father to his nephews and nieces after Jack and Bobby assassinated; and his wonderful sense of humour.

Very moving service. Barack and Michelle Obama were there as were Bill and Hillary Clinton, George and Laura Bush, Jimmy Carter and his wife; also Orrin Hatch and John McCain; and many, many others - the famous, the not-so-famous - family, friends and colleagues.

Obama gave a heartfelt tribute. The short contributions of the young Kennedys, each selecting something important to Ted, were telling. And the speeches of his sons, Edward junior and Patrick, were full of grief, but also love and pride. Edward junior lost a leg when only 12 and told how his father helped him deal with that. And Patrick, a US Congressman, told a similar tale - he is asthmatic and suffered from mental health problems.

And the health problems of his sons are just a part of the suffering this family has had to endure. All of Ted's three brothers died violent deaths - Joseph killed in the Second World War, Jack and Bobby assassinated. In the years after his brothers were killed, there must have been times when Ted feared an assassin's bullet would kill him, too - and it would have been understandable if he'd retired from public life. But he didn't: he kept going, and in time became recognised as the greatest legislator of his generation.

Ted Kennedy, a rich man, who spent all his life fighting for the poor and underprivileged. A man of personal flaws (but we all have those) whose behaviour at Chappaquiddick forty years ago will always be held against him by some.

I remember as a young teenager the day JFK was killed; I remember as a university student being excited by Bobby Kennedy's Presidential campaign in 1968, and I was devastated when he was murdered. I hoped Ted Kennedy would one day become President, but his 1980 campaign failed not just because of Chappaquiddick but also because it seemed he just did not want it enough - we've all probably seen the clip of that faltering response when the interviewer asked why he wanted to be President.

Since then, I've admired Kennedy's work in the Senate. Usually I've agreed with his politics. Many in America think they're insulting someone by calling them a 'liberal'. He was proud of being liberal. And rightly so.

But in the last few days I feel I've learnt a lot more about Ted Kennedy. These are not the usual formulaic tributes paid to the dead. These are heartfelt, genuine outpourings of love from family, friends and political colleagues.

A remarkable man. His spirit will live on.

This post was written on Saturday 29th August 2009