In breaking news today, Chancellor John Healey calls for his own resignation.
"the demands on defence have increased still further, as have the UK commitments you have rightly made to allies. Conflict in the Middle East, with the UK now leading the multinational Strait of Hormuz military mission; High North security, with the UK now leading NATO's Arctic Sentry mission; increased Russian activity towards the UK and NATO nations and increased attacks in Ukraine, with the Paris Agreement confirming a British deployment to Ukraine after a ceasefire........ the pressure of operations and imperative to speed up readiness to fight is in the first two years and it rises to just 2.68% of GDP in 2030, when we will reach 2.6% next year with the investment we are already making.
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| Important walking, with clipboard. |
"You spelled out the threats last week: "It is our intelligence assessment, and the assessment of other countries in NATO, that there could be an attack by Russia on NATO as soon as 2030.
After explaining to you that I would not be able to accept a DIP settlement that does not give our Forces the resources they need, I am now left with no other option than to submit my resignation as your Defence Secretary."
Royal Navy forces tracked a group of Russian warships during an "intense" 72-hour operation through the English Channel by Type 45 destroyer HMS Duncan, Type 23 frigate HMS St Albans and patrol vessel HMS Severn. Surveillance was expanded near the Strait of Dover using a Merlin helicopter, as Russian destroyer Admiral Levchenko was observed escorting sanctioned cargo ships General Skobelev and Sparta. Russia responded to the operation by dispatching extra military assets, including the frigate Neustrashimy.
First Sea Lord General Sir Gwyn Jenkins said there was “no room for complacency” as shadow fleet vessels continue to pose “an unacceptable risk” to maritime security and the environment.
It is with a heavy heart, therefore, that I call upon myself to resign.
Labour spokespersons rushed to their nearest media outlet. "Much has been done", they stated. "We have improved soldier's houses. Now that cost money, but we grudge nothing in terms of interior design decisions. And Andy Burnham visited Kyiv, where he announced Britain would provide Ukraine with blueprints for long-range Scalp missiles. Thus increasing their capacity to give Russia a bloody nose. What do you mean, that has enraged the Kremlin?
Really?
Which has spent the week escalating threats to the UK.
"Well nobody could have anticipated that, right?"
Talking of charity shops, I tried to join the local library the other day. The place was swarming with people, all of a certain age and amplitude, but no one was at the desk. I waited for the librarian to emerge from the rear quarters. I searched the desk for a bell. Quite some time later, when I was thinking of going away, one woman, wearing a name badge on a lanyard declaring her to be 'Mary' noticed me standing at the desk and asked:
"What do you want?".
"To join the library," I said.
She looked dumb-founded.
"Mhairi", she called, "There's someone here wants to join the library. Can you do it?"
Mhairi huffed and puffed, came to the desk, looked helplessly at the computer, then shouted for Marie. They all had name badges and it dawned on me that all these people were not customers in the sense of being library users. Marie tried. She entered my name and address into the computer, asked me to invent a PIN, helpfully advising me to go with my date of birth, but then got stuck with the data entry. Fortunately, there were two very large ring binders, with Volunteer Manual emblazoned on the spine. Marie earnestly consulted the ring binders.
"Maybe you could delete the whole thing and start again?" I suggested.
"Oh, no, I'm locked out now".
At this point, a real person wandered in from the street, drawn in by a display stand containing jam, and hand-embroidered cushions. Pretty pots of jam, all with fabric jam pot covers with pinked edges. She said, "Is there any Marmalade?" One of the Marys said, "Oh no," but the only man in the library bustled forwards helpfully and said, with some triumph, having rooted about amidst the pretty jam pots: "Here's one that looks like the right colour for marmalade." Whereupon the Mary snapped, "That's Marrow and Ginger, that is. Not Marmalade."
The customer bought the Marrow and Ginger and left without giving the books a second glance. The Man, quite cheered by the success of his heroic interventional sales pitch, now turned his attention to the stalled computer. He did the business with the computer and issued me with my library card.
"We're all volunteers", he explained.
"Really? Helping the librarian? Is she on her lunch break?"
"No, there are no professional librarians any more. Library staffing budgets were cut around 2014 to 2017 and small libraries were told they could only stay open if volunteers ran them. We are a Community Library and have to raise our own funding."
"Selling jam and cushions."
"Yes. And books. There's a rack outside of books for 10 pence each. I'll show you around."
The Man had clearly decided, the moment he rescued the computer system, that he was now my guide, my escort, my personal librarian and possibly my future husband. He proceeded to give me the full tour of a room the size of my sitting room, as if unveiling the treasures of the Bodleian. That’s classic volunteer‑library courtship behaviour.
"Would you like to become a volunteer?" asked the Man, lingering by a shelf of A-G.
"Looks like you've got more than enough volunteers," I responded.
Just then, Mary rounded the book case, with an armful of books, having overheard the suggestion and said: "Oh, pay him no mind. He's such a salesman. So I replied, "Yes, he's just selling me a bridge". Whereupon the volunteer lady looked very puzzled indeed. "What do you mean?"
"It's a joke" I said. Whereupon the Man explained, at tedious length, to the lady, whose intervention into our tête a tête was prompted, I suspect, by her own designs upon his person, all about someone selling London Bridge......... Rapidly tiring of this, and clearly wanting me off the premises, Mary asked if I was there for something specific. There was a hand-written poster, listing the top 10 popular authors that month. William Boyd was up there, so I said, meekly, yes, William Boyd. Mary sprinted away and returned triumphantly with four enormous hardbacks.
“It’s all we’ve got of his. I'll explain the check out system.”
The system turned out to be a supermarket self-service check out desk. I expected it to say "Unexpected Boyd in the bagging area."
And there I was, staggering out of the building with an armful of William Boyd.
I don't know if I dare go back, transgressive that I am, with my metropolitan joke about selling bridges, my expectation that there would be a professional librarian who could efficiently deal with my entirely reasonable request to join the library, my having disrupted the hierarchy and flirtations of an off-shoot of the whole Jam and Jerusalem, Women's Institute, over-priced-charity shop culture.
What the hell happened to Britain's libraries? How did they dare to cut budgets to the bone? The trained librarians went, and with them went cataloguing expertise, membership processing skills, customer service consistency, the ability to troubleshoot the council’s library software, knowledge and expertise. More than 180 council-run libraries have either closed or been handed over to volunteer groups in the UK since 2016.
"What do you want?".
"To join the library," I said.
She looked dumb-founded.
"Mhairi", she called, "There's someone here wants to join the library. Can you do it?"
Mhairi huffed and puffed, came to the desk, looked helplessly at the computer, then shouted for Marie. They all had name badges and it dawned on me that all these people were not customers in the sense of being library users. Marie tried. She entered my name and address into the computer, asked me to invent a PIN, helpfully advising me to go with my date of birth, but then got stuck with the data entry. Fortunately, there were two very large ring binders, with Volunteer Manual emblazoned on the spine. Marie earnestly consulted the ring binders.
"Maybe you could delete the whole thing and start again?" I suggested.
"Oh, no, I'm locked out now".
At this point, a real person wandered in from the street, drawn in by a display stand containing jam, and hand-embroidered cushions. Pretty pots of jam, all with fabric jam pot covers with pinked edges. She said, "Is there any Marmalade?" One of the Marys said, "Oh no," but the only man in the library bustled forwards helpfully and said, with some triumph, having rooted about amidst the pretty jam pots: "Here's one that looks like the right colour for marmalade." Whereupon the Mary snapped, "That's Marrow and Ginger, that is. Not Marmalade."
The customer bought the Marrow and Ginger and left without giving the books a second glance. The Man, quite cheered by the success of his heroic interventional sales pitch, now turned his attention to the stalled computer. He did the business with the computer and issued me with my library card.
"We're all volunteers", he explained.
"Really? Helping the librarian? Is she on her lunch break?"
"No, there are no professional librarians any more. Library staffing budgets were cut around 2014 to 2017 and small libraries were told they could only stay open if volunteers ran them. We are a Community Library and have to raise our own funding."
"Selling jam and cushions."
"Yes. And books. There's a rack outside of books for 10 pence each. I'll show you around."
The Man had clearly decided, the moment he rescued the computer system, that he was now my guide, my escort, my personal librarian and possibly my future husband. He proceeded to give me the full tour of a room the size of my sitting room, as if unveiling the treasures of the Bodleian. That’s classic volunteer‑library courtship behaviour.
"Would you like to become a volunteer?" asked the Man, lingering by a shelf of A-G.
"Looks like you've got more than enough volunteers," I responded.
Just then, Mary rounded the book case, with an armful of books, having overheard the suggestion and said: "Oh, pay him no mind. He's such a salesman. So I replied, "Yes, he's just selling me a bridge". Whereupon the volunteer lady looked very puzzled indeed. "What do you mean?"
"It's a joke" I said. Whereupon the Man explained, at tedious length, to the lady, whose intervention into our tête a tête was prompted, I suspect, by her own designs upon his person, all about someone selling London Bridge......... Rapidly tiring of this, and clearly wanting me off the premises, Mary asked if I was there for something specific. There was a hand-written poster, listing the top 10 popular authors that month. William Boyd was up there, so I said, meekly, yes, William Boyd. Mary sprinted away and returned triumphantly with four enormous hardbacks.
“It’s all we’ve got of his. I'll explain the check out system.”
The system turned out to be a supermarket self-service check out desk. I expected it to say "Unexpected Boyd in the bagging area."
And there I was, staggering out of the building with an armful of William Boyd.
I don't know if I dare go back, transgressive that I am, with my metropolitan joke about selling bridges, my expectation that there would be a professional librarian who could efficiently deal with my entirely reasonable request to join the library, my having disrupted the hierarchy and flirtations of an off-shoot of the whole Jam and Jerusalem, Women's Institute, over-priced-charity shop culture.
What the hell happened to Britain's libraries? How did they dare to cut budgets to the bone? The trained librarians went, and with them went cataloguing expertise, membership processing skills, customer service consistency, the ability to troubleshoot the council’s library software, knowledge and expertise. More than 180 council-run libraries have either closed or been handed over to volunteer groups in the UK since 2016.
Was it worth it?
The money they saved on the cuts - what did they spend it on ?
In the Library
by Charles Simic
There’s a book called
A Dictionary of Angels.
No one had opened it in fifty years,
I know, because when I did,
The covers creaked, the pages
Crumbled. There I discovered
The angels were once as plentiful
As species of flies.
The sky at dusk
Used to be thick with them.
You had to wave both arms
Just to keep them away.
Now the sun is shining
Through the tall windows.
The library is a quiet place.
Angels and gods huddled
In dark unopened books.
The great secret lies
On some shelf Miss Jones
Passes every day on her rounds.
She’s very tall, so she keeps
Her head tipped as if listening.
The books are whispering.
I hear nothing, but she does.
A Dictionary of Angels.
No one had opened it in fifty years,
I know, because when I did,
The covers creaked, the pages
Crumbled. There I discovered
The angels were once as plentiful
As species of flies.
The sky at dusk
Used to be thick with them.
You had to wave both arms
Just to keep them away.
Now the sun is shining
Through the tall windows.
The library is a quiet place.
Angels and gods huddled
In dark unopened books.
The great secret lies
On some shelf Miss Jones
Passes every day on her rounds.
She’s very tall, so she keeps
Her head tipped as if listening.
The books are whispering.
I hear nothing, but she does.
...............................................................
There are four splendid anthologies of the writings of stanislav and mr ishmael, compiled by his friend, mr verge, the house filthster. You can buy them from Amazon or Lulu. Here's how:
Honest Not Invent, Vent Stack, Ishmael’s Blues, and the latest, Flush Test (with a nice picture of the late, much lamented, Mr Harris of Lanarkshire taking a piss on a totem pole) are available from Lulu and Amazon. If you buy from Amazon, it would be nice if you could give a review on their website.IIshmaelites wishing to buy a copy from lulu should follow these steps
please register an account first, at lulu.com. This is advisable because otherwise paypal seems to think it's ok to charge in dollars, and they then apply their own conversion rate, which might put the price up slightly for a UK buyer. Once the new account is set up, follow one of the links below (to either paperback or hardback) or type "Ishmael’s Blues" into the Lulu Bookstore search box. Click on the “show explicit content” tab, give the age verification box a date of birth such as 1 January 1960, and proceed.
Link for Hardcover : https://tinyurl.com/je7nddfr
Link for Paperback : https://tinyurl.com/3jurrzux
https://www.lulu.com/shop/ishmael-smith/flush-test/paperback/product-9yjvn7.html?q=Flush+Test&page=1&pageSize=4
At checkout, try WELCOME15 in the coupon box, which (for the moment) takes 15% off the price before postage. If this code has expired by the time you reach this point, try a google search for "Lulu.com voucher code" and see what comes up.
With the 15% voucher, PB (including delivery to a UK address) should be £16.84; HB £27.04.
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