One of the things I have noted during this lockdown is how it is influencing our use of language. Some words, like “lockdown” itself even, or “quarantine“, or “pandemic” have stepped to the forefront of everyday language when they were formerly rarely used. In other cases, words have been put together in a new way to name the actions or situations new to us. “Self-isolate”, “shielding”, “social distancing” or “support bubble” come to mind.
And I have learnt some new words too: “furlough” is an example. This word has been around since the early seventeenth century and comes from the Dutch word vorloffe, meaning permission literally, or “leave of absence,” especially in military use. It was also applied to conditional temporary releases of prisoners for the purpose of going to jobs (work-release). But with Covid it acquired a new nuance with the government’s furlough scheme.
In some cases, words and phrases seem to reflect a new way of seeing things that Covid has brought about. I am thinking of the terms “non-essential retail“ and “keyworker“. In the first case, it seems like a slap in the face of the excessive materialism that is part of our everyday lives and media. And what about those people whose career is now defined as pointlessly needless? What must this do to their self-esteem when someone asks them what they do for a living and they must reply: “I am a non-essential retailer”? Compare these unfortunates to those whose vocations are not simply essential, they are the very key to our existence. Perhaps this is a new leveller of social inequality? It doesn’t matter how high class you may be as a purveyor of the finest quality luxury merchandise; you are still unnecessary now. So this means that Bertram Burnley, jewelers by royal appointment since 1825, is now completely superfluous, whereas Chelsea Noakes, who works down the Co-op at weekends, is pivotal to the very survival of our species.
Here is an interesting article from the Independent. Apparently, us teachers should now be prepared to sacrifice our lives to prove that we are committed to our profession. But I thought it was now “safe” to reopen schools. Have I missed something? Is that an admission that reopening of schools is not safe right now? And since when exactly did teaching amount to martyrdom?
The former head of Ofsted has said that teachers need to show a “similar commitment” to medical professionals, who in some cases have “sacrificed their lives.”
Sir Michael Wilshaw, the former chief inspector of schools, said there has to be a ‘pulling together’ among teachers and that they have to exhibit the same level of devotion as medics who have “gone the extra” mile during the pandemic, in order to get children caught up with their studies when schools return early next month.
“You have to compare this to the medical emergency over the last year and the commitment on the part of medical professionals and nurses and doctors.
They’ve gone the extra mile at great cost to themselves and their families, their health – they have sacrificed their lives in some cases. We need a similar commitment from the teaching profession over the next academic year.”
And out of interest: should Ofsted Inspectors be asked to martyr themselves too? I am sure Sir Michael meant well, but the thought occurs: those wonderful people in the medical profession signed up for that and have shown themselves to be heroic. The pandemic hit and was beyond anyone’s control. The children being sent back into schools is not such an external factor: it is a government decision, not a pandemic beyond anyone’s control. I, for one, have been looking after keyworker children and vulnerable children throughout, when most people were in lockdown at home and at the same time sending out/marking online learning and paper copies for those that do not have internet access. So what is the “extra mile” the government want from me now? If it is the idea that teachers should be prepared to give their lives to support the government’s decisions, then this is something I do not really understand. Yet this is what this man seems to be saying: the government are expecting teachers to be prepared to sacrifice their lives so that we can send children back to school. If not, then what does the “extra mile” mean? Does he really mean that I have to die? Am I an uncommitted teacher if I don’t sacrifice my life for my profession?
I know I set out with a “non-partisan” intention on these lockdown diaries, but I have had enough now: I really don’t want to live in a country like this any more. Brexit was one idiocy and made me ashamed to be British; the way the leaders are handling this crisis and the double standards between the way top government officials speak and look after themselves, flaunt the lockdown rules in some cases and what they ask the lowest face to face public sector workers to do may just be one step too far. So here is an idea: if Ofsted inspectors can not do visits to schools right now, why not send them to take the place of unpaid volunteers in Covid testing centres and vaccination centres? I am really pleased that I have not used any invective in this post. It was hard…
“One big fellow box, ‘e got plenty black tooth, plenty white teeth belong ‘im, time master ‘e fight ‘im, fight ‘im, ‘e sing out, sing out!”
From “A Young Traveller in the South Seas” (Iremonger)
The above phrase is given by the author as the translation of the word “piano” into Pidgin English. And what a glorious way to name this object through language. I loved it when I read it and have remembered it ever since.
I am experiencing a similar thing when I watch the Downing Street Briefings. There is always a po-faced person on the left, gravely appraising our situation and then on the right there is what I would like to think of as the speaker of Pidgin English. Look at the expressive faces this smaller person pulls. He is mouthing what appear more to be obscenities than to be offering an exaggerated lip-reading synch to emphasise the speech for those who cannot hear the words of wisdom emanating from his larger friend. Look at the evocative hand gestures that accompany the face-pulling. He is using his whole body to communicate.
As a result of this, I find myself captivated by the visual drama of the diminutive character to the right, to the extent that I soon start to drift off and cease to listen to the person on the left at all.
If you could take Pidgin English and put it into visual form, then this would be it.
I wonder if anyone else has become obsessed by these rather small people who so often pop up on our TV screens and are much more interesting than the politicians and experts at the moment?
I just started to wonder about the cost of Covid measures to our government and where all the money for this comes from. It is not a simple thing, and for someone like me I need it grossly over-simplifying if I am even to begin to understand. According to the BBC news, this year the government is spending £280 billion on measures to fight Covid-19 and its impact on the economy. If you want to see it as a number here it is:
So where is it coming from? And the entire National Debt is currently £1,876.8 billion (at the end of the financial year ending 2020). So who has that sort of cash to lend the government?
If you want to see what this 1,876.8 billion looks like then here it is:
Whoever lent that money will collect 23.5 billion in interest.
The government borrows money by selling bonds. A bond is a promise to make payments to whoever holds it on certain dates. There is a large payment on the final date – in effect, the repayment. Interest is also paid to whoever owns the bond in the meantime. So it’s basically an interest-paying “IOU”. The buyers of these bonds, or “gilts”, are mainly financial institutions, like pension funds, investment funds, banks and insurance companies. Private savers also buy some.
Some also end up being bought by the Bank of England as part of its current attempts to boost spending and investment in the economy. Under this policy – known as “quantitative easing” – the Bank has so far bought £875 billion of government bonds.
Now all that seems a bit crazy to me because if you look on the Bank of England’s website it will tell you that they are “wholly-owned by the UK government”. The Bank was nationalised in 1946, which meant that it was now owned by the Government rather than by private stockholders. So the government borrows money by issuing bonds, which it then buys itself. So where does that money come from to buy its own bonds?
However, not all of the above is quite true, because 3% of the bank’s shares are owned by private investors. Just as when the bank was originally set up, the identities of these shareholders is a closely guarded secret. In fact, when, in 2009, a request was made to HM Treasury, under the Freedom of Information Act, asking for the details about the 3% Bank of England stock owned by unnamed shareholders, the response was that their identity was something the Bank was not at liberty to disclose. In a letter of reply dated 15 October 2009, HM Treasury explained that. “Some of the 3% Treasury stock which was used to compensate former owners of Bank stock has not been redeemed. However, interest is paid out twice a year…” But whoever that 3% are, will they be taking that percentage of the interest payments on the £875 billion, or £26250000000?
These sort of figures boggle the mind! So, I tried to find out more online. It turns out that most “national banks”, although they may give themselves names that sound like government departments, like “The First Bank of the United States”, are privately owned. Even the “nationalised” Bank of England is not wholly owned by the government. The history of these powerful institutions, who have the power to issue money, is complex. What is certain is that some people must have made silly amounts of money out of it.
It goes back to the notion of “fractional reserve banking”. Bankers realised that only a fraction of investors wanted to withdraw their money at any one time, so the idea came about that they could lend out more money than they actually had, making profit from the interest payments on loans. In fact, they were allowed to lend out up to ten times their reserves under fractional reserve banking rules. And royalty or governments were the ideal targets for large, profitable loans, underwritten by the power to tax the population. Fractional reserve banking meant that the banks didn’t actually have to have the cash in order to loan it.
So imagine that I am a National Bank. OK, I’m patently not, but just humour me for a moment. I have one pound, but under the laws of fractional reserve banking I can lend out £10 (don’t forget that I also have the right to create money from thin air by printing currency if I need to). But it is only numbers on a balance sheet, not actual cash when it comes down to it, which is transferred between accounts. From that loan I may get back, say £11 when interest is added. So now I can loan out £110… and so on. I wondered why the bankers don’t just print themselves all the money they want, but putting too much money out there would only increase demand for goods and services and lead to price inflation, which would devalue the currency. If I find that there is too much money out there and inflation is rampant, then I can constrict the money supply by calling in debts or not issuing new loans. In short, there is nothing “natural” about the cycles of boom and bust which our economies are subject to. They are entirely manufactured by those who control the money supply: in other words the National Banks.
So back to my original question: who has that sort of cash to loan the government? I think the answer is that that sort of cash simply does not exist. It’s all just numbers on balance sheets, but somewhere along the line someone, somewhere is likely to be making huge profits from this crisis. These people must love national crises like the pandemic, or wars, because huge profits can be made by loaning the money to pay for them to governments. Historically banks have actually financed both sides (for example during the Napoleonic Wars) with clauses that require the victors to honour the debts of the vanquished.
If you want the full story (and have some stamina – it’s three and a half hours long) give this a watch and it explains the whole sordid tale of how we have got to this stage:
I actually had to watch this twice to get my had around it. But now I think I need a lie down…
Alicia Keys perfectly sums up my thoughts on those Teaching Assistants who are running Educare for vulnerables and children whose parents are keyworkers, the supportive under-the-cosh-head-teachers we work for and those teachers who feel like they are down on their knees this Friday evening. What a brilliant songstress she is: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=QGSORkkCcl0
If you know any teaching assistants/teachers/ headteachers please send this song to them. If you are one of those, then this is for you!
Lockdown always seems to bring on some vivid dreams.
My Mum, who at 85 is living with Alzheimer’s in a care home, came into a dream last night.
“When old people were dying, we always used to cuddle them. Now they don’t do that,” she said.
Someone else was there; I don’t know who it was. I had the feeling it was my Dad, but did not see him clearly. I got up to go and give her a hug, but stopped short, thinking, “What if I am the one who gives her Covid?” And then I woke up with a start. It was ten to four in the morning.
I can’t say I am enjoying this lockdown. And worst of all it ruins your travel plans. Last year we had planned a road trip around Spain and Portugal, but the virus put an end to that. This year we were hoping to do a trip up to Scandinavia and this is looking less and less likely too. So, lack of travel sort of curtails more travel blogs. Because of this, I thought I’d start a lockdown area on the blog. I want to look out for the bizarre, the curious, ironic or just interesting things that may come out of the current situation, but in a non-partisan way. After all, it is exactly these sort of discoveries that are one of the major reasons to travel about the place. So here is the first one.
My boss wants us all to take lateral flow tests twice a week. She said that if anyone was vegetarian, then they should check out the Vegan Society’s website. I am a vege (or more accurately a pescatarian) and that apparently qualified me to be tasked with finding out the information on behalf of other members of staff who don’t eat meat. I searched the Vegan Society’s web pages, as well as a general search on line, asked on the union’s Facebook page but came up with nothing. Until finally someone posted on the NEU site to say it was to do with an enzyme used in the test which is synthesised from the ovaries of hamsters. It is true! I don’t want to go into the merits or otherwise of lateral flow tests – non-partisan, remember?
How on earth did scientists stumble across or discover this, that’s what I want to know? But here’s the nub: it’s not just any hamster… it’s the Chinese hamster! So, the Chinese may have given the world the virus, but at least they had the good grace to gift the world hamsters whose ovaries could be used in a test for it. Now that was an irony I could not let pass me by without at least a little comment. Love it! But I still want to know how on earth it was discovered.
This is a fabulous video. The sky is the director/colourist. Here is Coldplay, up on the citadel in Amman playing a set. I am biased, having lived in Amman for a few years. But let’s start with the scenery. It begins at dawn and the wonderful shots capture the sand coloured buildings in the early light. But as we progress the sands become darker. more defined: pastel browns, the oranging sky, bedecked with flights of birds, offers us more pink-tinged sunrise hues, muted sands on the buildings turn to dark golden brown or even hints of purple sun colours. This is the Amman I remember. Water tanks on roofs, buildings clinging to the jebels (hills), and colours changing with the light. How did they avoid the early morning mosque calls to film this?
I loved the way the song titles were subtitled in Arabic. I loved the use of local musicians (Paul Simon take note). I noted the Arabic tassels on the mic stands with pleasure. These guys embraced the local culture for sure. Were they not slightly suffering from vertigo when playing on top of the amphitheatre?
Now to the music. Stunning. In “Broken Gospel” the synergy between lead and backing singers is absolutely tangible. “Daddy” brought a tear to my eye and the horn section in “Arabesque” tweaked my jazz mojo. The exuberance of the backers in “Orphans” was heart-rending. And all this whilst watching the sun rising over downtown Amman: what more could I ask for? Pure pleasure for me.
Here is the video you need to watch. It’s about an hour long but will help you to understand what a beautiful city Amman is, and what a great album this is from Coldplay. Thank you, guys. Kudos!
It’s a new word, a word for our times: a time of excess consumerism, especially during lockdown:
SIBBIOUSBILIA (sib-ee-us-bill-eee-a) noun – an acronym, meaning stuff (sometimes shit), I bought but Ionly used sporadically before I lost interest altogether. It is also used to describe the psychological state of buying such items obsessively. For example: “She suffers from sibbiousbilia,” or, “the house was jam-packed full of sibbiousbilia.”
But more to the point, sibbiousbilia explains why you can’t get into your garage. The one that is too small for modern cars and is filled with such junk. We don’t throw it out, give it away or sell it. I don’t know why.
Does anyone suffer, or live with someone who suffers from this debilitating condition? Does anyone know a cure for it?