Some of my earliest memories are of going to work with my grandfather. He was secretary to a group of Miners’ Institutes in the valleys of south Wales. We travelled in his small car collecting the takings from the snwcer tables (he always used the Welsh pronunciation) from various Institutes which we then counted in his office before taking them to the bank in cloth bags. From him I learnt that eight half crowns or ten florins made a pound.

That was all back in the 1960s. The Institutes even then were in decline with fewer miners to read the newspapers or forage away in the dusty, musty libraries piled high with books. Following the destruction of the mining industry in the 80s under Thatcher, few of the hundred or more Institutes that used to be in south Wales have survived. Many are now simply crumbling ruins.

The Institutes started in the late 19th century as miners gathered together and paid a regular subscription to fund the building and running of an Institute. Each Institute had a library and a reading room. The larger ones had a meeting hall for public gatherings and some a snwcer hall and refreshment area. The Institutes were socialist in philosophy, driven by a desire to help the working man better himself. No one wanted to work down a mine if there were an alternative. The work was filthy, dangerous and poorly paid. Accidents were common as was industrial disease (Miners’ Lung). My own grandfather started working at the pit when he was 14, and lost his leg a short while later when a mining tram he was riding in jumped the rails and ran over his leg. He said it was the best thing that ever happened to him – it took him away from the pit. As I said – no one wanted to work down a mine.

Today in Britain that socialist ideal seems to have vanished. We have young people (albeit a tiny minority, and some not so young) looting and robbing, trashing and setting fire to property, running wild with no respect for others or fear of the police. How did we get to this point? It’s a subject that has been endlessly pontificated about in the press over the last few days with the usual suspects airing their usual prejudices, so I felt like I should pontificate too, mostly to get some of my thoughts straight in my head.

***

The first recorded use of the word “teenager” was in 1941. By the 50s the teenager had become a clearly distinct group in society. No longer were children in their teens dressed like small-scale adults. No longer were they put to work down the pit or in factories at 14. Society had lowered its expectations of mature, responsible behaviour from this cohort; they had their own music and dress sense and used the freedom to rebel against their “square” (1944) elders.

What are you rebelling against?
What have you got?
– The Wild One (1953)

***

In the early 1960s London Transport decided it wanted to import workers to drive our buses and clean our toilets rather than to pay a decent wage to attract British workers. Over the decades more and more immigrants have arrived on our shores, some of them highly skilled doctors and architects, but others poorly educated labourers – peasant farmers and the like. This has created an underclass which fails to place a sufficiently high value on education leading to poorly educated youths with few prospects in life.

Of course, it’s not just with 2nd, 3rd or 4th generation immigrants that you find families with low expectations and equally low attainment. There have been other factors at work.

***

In the mid-80s Harry Enfield created a comedy character, a plasterer who received exorbitant amounts of money for doing very little. Loadsamoney (as he was called) encapsulated Thatcherite greed; people laughed at him because they knew it was true. Thatcher promulgated of a doctrine of “every man for himself”, a doctrine of greed and selfishness. People were left with no broader vision or purpose other than serving themselves. This created a sense of entitlement. You could have a microwave, a colour TV and a hi fi system, enough money to spend on fags and booze, yet still consider yourself to be living in poverty. You didn’t need to work because the state would give you money for nothing which you could spend on the latest consumer goods and your vices. Subsequent governments of all persuasions have continued the Thatcherite dogma.

***

There are other factors at play – particularly, in my opinion, parenting. The breakdown of the family is reflected by the number of children being raised by a single parent. (3 million children in Britain are being raised by single parents). That’s three million children with one fewer adult to guide and discipline them. Of course, some single parents do an excellent job. One loving parent is undoubtedly better than two indifferent ones. Even for children with two parents at home children are now living much more independent lives as is exemplified by how rare it has become for families to sit down together at a table every night for dinner. I’d also posit that parents have generally become lazier in their parenting over the years, now far keener to sit on the couch and occasionally shout at their offspring, rather than providing strict, consistent boundaries for their children’s behaviour, but then good parenting is undoubtedly hard work.

***

There have been Jeremiahs over the centuries who’ve complained about how society has been going downhill. Indeed, as one becomes older such an outlook perhaps become the norm. And it’s true there has always been a poorly educated underclass and feral youths. And there have been plenty of riots over the past centuries, and shops have been looted and stores set on fire. However, I do fear the outlook for Britain is bleak. How can society possibly undo the causes that have created an underclass completely lacking in respect for others and for the rule of law, and with such a sense of entitlement to material goods that they are prepared to go to any lengths to satisfy their greed?

[550]

It’s now less than a week since Thaksin’s puppet sister was elected Prime Minister. Showing government priorities we now hear that Thaksin’s children are to be exempt from paying the 11 billion Baht capital gains tax on the sale of strategic national assets including telecommuncations satellites and mobile ‘phone network the family company to Singapore. 11 billion Baht? That’s 226 million Great British Pounds or 368 million Yankee Dollars.

The Prime Minister has also made an interesting choice of Foreign Minister. Rather than go for an experienced career diplomat she chose a man who not only has no experience of foreign affairs but has also openly admitted he’s not interested in them. He may be related to the Thaksin clan through marriage, but I’m sure he’s the best man for the job. The job, apparently, is to bring Thaksin back to Thailand without his spending a moment in jail and ensuring he’s totally exonerated of all criminal charges.

[548]

In the 1990s Masterchef was a rather campy TV cookery competition hosted by a presenter who was perhaps uniquely skilled in torturing vowels as he spoke – American Loyd Grossman. It occasionally passed the time on boring Sunday afternoons, but was hardly compulsive viewing. Then in 2005 the format was radically changed and now versions of the show have spread across the civilised world and America.

One key requirement of the new format is two judges, one bald, one with hair, and both very shouty.

Masterchef UK judges
Masterchef UK judges

Masterchef Australia judges
Masterchef Australia Judges

New Zealand got it a bit wrong with three judges, all of whom have hair – they’re still shouty, though.

Masterchef New Zealand judges
Masterchef New Zealand judges

America surpassed itself with three judges, including the obligatory baldy, and the shoutiest judge of the lot: Gordon Ramsay.

Masterchef USA judges
Masterchef USA judges

Perhaps the weakest version of the show is the American one. The contestants seem to be chosen more for their back stories than their cooking ability or passion for food.

Also quite poor is the British version. Some of the competitors surpass the judges in their knowledge about food, so the judges can't fairly judge or critique.

The New Zealand version is better, but by far the most gripping is the Australian version. In fact, I can hardly believe I've watched 86 episodes over the last 3 months and been kept glued to the screen. (The show is on six days a week at prime time in Australia, but is filmed over 8 months, so is very gruelling for the contestants, separated from their families, including young children, and loved ones.)

The judges are both top-knotch professional chefs, and every Friday edition is a masterclass in which the chefs show how some of the dishes made by the amateurs could have been done much better; no case of the pupils surpassing the masters here.

The contestants do rather seem to have been selected as a selection of stereotypes: there's the blond surfer dude, a plump Irish guy, a ditzy blond, a middle aged housewife, an elderly Sri Lankan, a young man with scary tattoos, a well-padded girl with maquillage and dress sense from the 1950s, a hippy chick (called “Sun”), a gay Asian man, and so on. Seeing them almost every night on TV you feel you get to know them as people as well as sensational cooks.

What has also been sensational has been the guests. There have been some of the world’s leading chefs: Daniel Boulud, Marco Pierre White, David Chang (Momofuku), Heston Blumenthal, Neil Perry. For the final they had the head chef from what has officially been the world's best restaurant for the last two years: René Redzepi of Noma.

There has also been a great selection of TV chefs and cooks: Rick Stein, Kylie Kwong, Curtis Stone, Anthony Bourdain, Chef Wan (a very camp Malaysian celebrity chef) and Nigella Lawson amongst others.

I don't think Maggie Beer's very well known outside the antipodes, but to Australia she's a national treasure, a lovely woman with the demeanor of a kindly grandmother who’s sold more cookery books than you could shake a stick at. Also not so well known is Adriano Zumbo who creates the most incredible, fantastical patisserie. An amazing master craftsman.

The absolutely blow-your-socks off moment for me, however, was when a particular special guest walked through the kitchen doors: His Holiness the Dalai Lama!!! It was enough to have me squirming in my seat and squealing with delight.

His Holiness the Dalai Lama holds the hand of a Masterchef Australia contestant
His Holiness the Dalai Lama holds the hand of a Masterchef contestant as she offers him food

Now how am I going to fill the hours of the day without Masterchef Australia? Perhaps I should look into the Croatian, Greek, German, Indian, Indonesian, Israeli and Malaysian versions.

[549]

One of the things you learn in Investing 101 is the importance of diversification – in short, don’t put all your eggs in one basket. The thinking is that different asset classes tend to respond differently to changing economic circumstances. That’s why most portfolios contain a mixture of bonds and equities, the (somewhat wishful) thinking being that went equities go up bonds will go down. Larger portfolios will usually have some investment in commercial property. Here it’s usually considered better to invest in funds which directly invest in physical bricks and mortar than funds which invest in property companies since the latter are more closely correlated with the broader stockmarket.

With an even larger portfolio it’s pretty common to add hedge funds, private equity and commodities. Some people also add things such as forestry since they believe money can grown on trees. All this is done to increase diversification and (notionally) to decrease risk. That’s the theory.

In practice, I’ve been pretty badly burnt.

My hedge fund investment was badly hit by the Weavering Capital fraud.

One of my private equity investments, an Arch Cru fund, was spectacularly mismarketed and mismanaged.

With both of these it’s going to take several years before I get what is only a part of my investment back.

My venture into commercial property with Carpathian at one point was down 90%, and the fund is now gradually being wound up as the shopping centres and office blocks it owns are sold off.

And now I’ve been stung again: Castlestone Management, in two of whose commodity funds I have money invested was raided by the FSA and there followed a temporary suspension of trading the funds. As soon as the suspension was lifted I gave instructions to sell out of both these funds. I waited and waited but didn’t receive the proceeds. Yesterday Castlestone announced they were closing the business and that the funds would be frozen: no shares issued or sold. Goodness knows when I’ll see the money, and how much of my original investment I’ll get back.

Precisely how many times can lightening strike in the same place?

Forget diversification – I’ll be keeping my money under the mattress from now on.

[547]

i ve got a new hobbyWhisky Portrait
it s gardening
i love nothing better than
digging a hole and scattering
the earth all over the driveway
i think my master loves me
doing this because he sweeps up
all the soil and
puts it back in the hole
so i can start all over again
what my silly master
doesn t understand
is that i m trying to grow
a shoe tree
i m going to plant
one of his shoes in the hole
so it grows into a lovely tree
and when it has fruit
they ll be shoes
that way i ll have
lots of different shoes to chew
and master won t be so grumpy
when i chew his

whisky

[546]

I’m not sure whether to quote Dylan or R.E.M..

“It’s a hard rain a-gonna fall”

or

“It’s the end of the world as we know it”

But here’s the evidence from a few minutes ago.

Impending Storm

[545]

my master has a lovely singing voiceWhisky Portrait

a sort of cross between a baying beagle
and a wailing wolfhound

earlier today he was singing a song about me

whisky is my darling my darling my darling
whisky is my darling the young cavalier

silly master
i m not a cavalier spaniel
i m a pure-bred thai street dog

my master tells me
it s a traditional scottish song
that doesn t surprise me
because the scots are well known
whisky lovers

i did think it would be nice
to take a holiday in scotland
i m sure they have lots of frogs to kill
then i heard about
a torture device they have
it s called a whisky still
i don t want to be put in a copper kettle
and boiled alive
no thank you

whisky

[544]

i love licking thingsWhisky Portrait
i lick my master s feet and ankles
when he comes out of the shower
i lick his face when he sits down
particularly if he has food in front of him
i lick the water that falls on the floor
when my master is washing the dishes
i lick what my master calls my naughty bits
i don t know why he said
lick your balls goodbye though
but most of all
i like licking shiny things
like the desk legs
and the coffee table
however these things have a problem
they can t be moved
imagine my delight
when i found something shiny
that i could carry around with me

Whisky & bowl

[543]

Dogs eat meat. They have sharp teeth to rip and tear flesh. So why does dog food have corn and rice cereal as its main ingredient, and also contain corn gluten meal, soy bean meal, wheat flour, carrot and spinach? It’s virtually vegan. Anyway, that’s why I frequently give Whisky a little meat or fish or an egg. Since dogs have a poor sense of taste* I usually get the cheapest meat I can find. Yesterday I was boiling up chicken hearts for him. It reminded me of a beautiful, haunting song by Christina Perri whose career skyrocketed after it was featured last season on So You Think You Can Dance. I can’t embed the video, but the link is:

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=BDbrur1Cs_Q

* When first picked up Whisky was wearing a red and white napkin tied around his neck in lieu of a collar. Red and white with those fur tones? What a fashion faux pas!

[542]

i find my master exasperating at timesWhisky Portrait

why do i have to
sit on the floor
when master sits on the sofa
and why do i have to
sleep in a crate
when master sleeps on a nice big bed

why does he inflict baths on me
for that matter
why does he shower
several times a day
just as i think i m smelling great
he dumps me in a tub
and covers me with lather
it takes a lot of rolling
in smelly things
to get your aroma just right

why does he cut my claws
i spend a lot of time and effort
making my nails grow
then he hacks them off
it s just wrong

why does he close the toilet lid
doesn t he understand
that the pretty blue water there
is delicious and cool
so much nicer that the stuff
he puts in my bowl
i feel sorry for little dogs
like that noisy pomeranian that
can never experience the true delight
of quaffing deeply from the loo

why doesn t he share his
food with me
we re both part of the same pack
i m happy to share my crunchy
dog food with him
he should share his steak
and chicken
and pork
and beef
and everything
with me

why does he tell me not to bark
when i see the postman
this man comes every day
and every day i dutifully scare him off
how can i do this if i m not allowed to bark

why when we go walkies
does he hold me back on a leash
if he can t keep up with me
and he is getting on a bit
he shouldn t use a leash

why does he tell me
to hurry up
when i do my business
doesn t he understand that
there s a fine art in locating
the perfect spots to pee and poo
it s essential to sniff around a lot
before you go
you can t go just anywhere

i work hard
protecting the world from
frogs and postmen
and licking things
i don t think master
is treating me very fairly

whisky

[541]