Tea And Art

First up was high tea at Fortnum & Mason, which I can confirm is rather nice. In fact the tea itself is the least impressive bit. I'm more of a coffee man myself. What is undeniable is the very British niceness of the sandwiches, savoury scones and pastries - savoury because that is what I had opted for. As many top-ups as you require, both liquid and solid. Jolly good fun.

After that it was over the road to the Royal Academy to take in the Summer Exhibition. Keen readers might remember that the Groupie and I attended this gig a few years ago as corporate guests. This time we were paying our own way. Perhaps it was the need to put my hand in my pocket but I didn't think there were quite so many impressive exhibits this time around - mind you, and on this topic I say this very advisedly, what do I know?

The Small Weston Room is entirely given over to a collection of photographic prints of industrial subjects by Bernd and Hilla Becher. These are arresting and, ooh err missus, well hung. As for the rest, not a lot I'd make wall space for. The OG Award for best in show goes to exhibit number 865, Stromboli Crater by Emma Stibbon (yours for £7850), drawn in ink, charcoal dust and volcanic ash. Honourable mentions also for: Storm Over City II, 199, Bill Jacklin; Strolling Geisha, 337, Anja Kempa; Library of Memories, 340, Anja Kempa; Mr and Mrs Bowles of Ballyward (After Gainsborough), 453, David Hamilton; The City Divided, 577, Peter Freeth; Selina Hearse, 937, Eugen Raportoro.

I repeat, in this as in much else, what do I know? 

I Suppose I Might Be Old

People I rather like have taken to social media to characterise me a racist, xenophobic, selfish, uneducated, old cretin. I may be a tad touchy but I feel slightly affronted by this description - a description which apparently applies unqualified to anybody one suspects of having voted Leave in last week's referendum.

Libby Purves did a fine job of castigating the hysterical left in her Times column yesterday. I'd give you the link but you can only view it if you subscribe to the Murdoch empire so I won't bother. I won't attempt to do again what she has already done so adroitly but I will just defend myself.

Racist? Please don't bandy this thing around. It is wounding and scurrilous. Some of my best friends etc. Same goes for xenophobic. A belief in the nation state does not exclude a nuanced internationalism. A European alliance will remain a sine qua non of peace but it does not have to be an undemocratic bloated technocracy.

Selfish? No, the selfish thing for lucky old me would be to deny my romantic attachment to democracy and not rock the economc boat. My theoretical net worth (such as it is) plummeted on Friday. The material franchise is not mine to give away.

Uneducated? Well, immodestly, two degrees and a professional qualification might suggest otherwise. I may of course be wrong but I do at least have the intellectual equipment and humilty to accept that others may not always agree with me. Indeed most of the time all the evidence is that most people don't share my views. I live with it, I don't wail and bleat and hurl unmediated abuse.

Old? Well yes, you've got me there. Cretin? Really not for me to judge but here's the thing: I got a vote and I used in the way that I thought best suited the perpetuating of representative democracy in a viable nation state. I judge that to be in the long term interests of generations to come and most particularly my own children. I did not do so lightly. I was not persuaded by the infantile antics of the main players in either campaign.

Stop insulting me please. You demean yourselves. I'm sorry we do not agree. These things happen - in a democracy.

It's Only A Game

Dear Reader,

what a shameful (yes I think shame does just about come into it) performance by the glorious multi-millionaires carrying the proud name of English football last night. A memorable 1-2 defeat at the hands of the mighty Iceland, population about the same as Leicester.

Whoops

 So it is with some modest joy that I confess to my Icelandic heritage and will today use my actual name - Dagbor Overgraduatesonn. Watch us as we go forward to topple yet more giants of the game. Afram Island (look  it up).

We Icelanders don't really play rugby so my favourite team is England and, wouldn't you know it, they have just won a series in Australia 3-0. All hail Sir Eddie Jones. I've been reading the Welsh message boards which are cheerfully fatalistic about the tanning they took from the All Blacks, and even on those forums there is grudging praise for what England have done, interspersed, of course, with some complaints about Australia scoring more tries and the unreliability of the referees - even including some carping at the special one, Nigel Owens. Steady on chaps.

I've been down in that London for a long weekend and I'll shortly let you have some thoughts on that and the general madness of the post-apocalyptic world of the Brexit referendum. But first I've got to go and get that three lions tattoo removed.

Yours in sport,

Dagbor.

The First Of The Few

Old films. I like old films. Tiring of the tide of euodrivel on the news this morning (whatever have we done to deserve a chippy little twerp like Tim Farron?) I decided to take in a film. The First of the Few is the patriotic (made in the midst of WW2) telling of the genesis of the Spitfire. The effects are understandably creaky but the whole is charming, disarming and moving. 7/10. Oh and by the way Leslie Howard (who directed and starred) was thought to look a little like my beloved airman Grandfather. The film's concluding on-screen epitaph is quite properly left to Churchill.

Never in the field of human conflict was so much owed by so many to so few

Waking To Brexit

I was woken by an animated Groupie announcing that the EU referendum had gone the way of the gay Brexiteers. Must admit, even though I voted for it I had no expectation of being on the winning side of the equation.

I have also woken to the self-fulfilling prophecy of falling markets and we have already had one dead cat bounce. Expect volatility - aggressive traders love volatility. The pound has also collapsed. Nobody seems to be pointing out that this will make exports cheaper.

Cameron is going. He announced his political demise with educated good grace but, all in all, I'm afraid it's good riddance to bad rubbish. And can you make sure you take that George Osborne with you please.  Both men behaved despicably during the campaign.

The news shows are quite telling - the poor old BBC is relishing the financial furore and cannot quite believe that the silly old electorate has departed from its patrician orthodoxy. If you want a more balanced take on it all skip up the Sky menu to the foreign news channels where the speculation is quite sensibly on the broader European implications and the possible (and much to be desired) halt of the longstanding integrationist madness.

The economic issues clamour to take all the attention but let us take a step back and applaud an endorsement of rather old-fashioned democratic principles. It's not all about money. Just for once let us humour a romantic notion of universal suffrage.

Two Good Things I Read Today

On the ghastliness of recent politics:

So with the Referendum. Combining bare-faced lies with lurid, mendacious threats, neither side seems to care less what it says. But that is the nature of political populism: its unabashed shamelessness and manifest contempt for the electorate. The irony is that electorate, however Twitter-crazed, would rather not be treated like cretins, so they fully reciprocate that contempt. (Peter Jones, Spectator 18 June)

Indirectly, on the greatness of Queen Elizabeth II:

It is an abomination to kings to commit wickedness: for the throne is established by righteousness. (Proverbs 16:12)

Holidays 16.8 - Sweeping Up And Ending

The Queen gets longer at Balmoral but hey ho OG and Groupie must leave the country estate today and revert to the sunny North of Birmingham - Groupie to hard labour and OG to try to make some discernible progress on his doctoral thesis. It has been a great break and we seem to have dodged the terrible weather that has affected the Midlands. Pleasingly it is raining on the island as we pack up - always nicer to drive away from inclement weather.

Whistler included himself in the mural

We did make it back to Plas Newydd for a mooch around that most habitable of country piles. As ever I loved the Whistler mural. It graces the dining room so that lucky guests were either facing the beautiful Menai Straits or the imagined glories of the mural. I bet food tasted good either way. It may not be highest art but, if pressed, it would win my vote as my favourite painting. It does however depend for its effect on being seen in situ.

Monster portions

It has been sitting rather prosaically on our route along the A5025 for the near two decades that we have been coming here but it took us until this Friday to try out the Panton Arms at Pentraeth. We had missed a trick. Really rather good - I enjoyed a couple of pints of Flintshire Bitter and the food was beyond passable: Groupie raved about the haddock and chorizo risotto and my burger with added pulled pork was generous and tasty. One to visit again.

The island is beautiful but it can be too tempting to keep visiting the same few places. Yesterday we broke new ground and were the better for it. Penmon Point itself was not new (although it had been several years since we were last there) but we headed westward on the coastal path and found some glorious new views. Fortified by that healthy staple, ready salted crisps, we later walked from bridge to bridge at Menai Bridge, commencing at the Telford suspension bridge and getting all the way (there is now a goodish new tranche of the coastal path that hugs the Straits) to its younger, vaster cousin, Stephenson's Brittania Bridge, before returning along the road. Very satisfying and it left us with a good appetite for our final dinner of beans on toast swilled down with champagne.

We walked from here ...

... to here

What you need at the end of a good day is a film that makes you smile. Despite its manifest absurdities, Independence Day did its job. Definitely not a great film but one that fulfils its limited purpose. And Will Smith is most certainly one of those actors who fills the screen. 5.5/10.