A Conference of Parties ... at least of those with little or no interest in Climate Change

One year ago I posted my personal and very brief review of COP28 over on My Poetry Library (https://poetjanstie.com/2023/12/22/a-conference-of-sparrows/). In this I was, for a moment inspired and enchanted by a flock of sparrows in their usual struggle for life in a hedge in our garden. The recording, at its ending, goes silent, leaving me with a moment of melancholy. The ending of this years COP29, provided me with another moment of disappointment of perhaps even greater magnitude. Whilst the conclusion of COP28 at least made a reference to the most important purpose of this annual meeting of the world's nations, COP29 made no mention of 'the transition away from fossil fuels'. Of course COP29 was, for the second year running held in and hosted by so-called Petro-States. What better endorsement of the commitment by world leaders to the transition away from the largest contributor to their imminently irreversible destruction of the environment that supports human life worldwide. 

Then I discovered an inspired answer to the problem, at least the problem of being constantly battered by news of death and destruction of humanity (by humanity), of wildlife and of the natural world (by humanity's constant quest for supremacy), leaving us in a continual state of pessimism. Rather than bury your heads in the challenges and travails of your everyday life, try to find a moment to read this book. It is titled  "Future Vision'. Written by Dr Cathy Rogers, and illustrated by Madeleine Rogers, it is clearly aimed at all those things that represent the vision and ambitions of both these women. 

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Authors' biographies ...

Dr. Cathy Rogers is a science writer and researcher. Her career began in TVcreating and producing science programmes, including the Emmy-nominated Junkyard Wars(US) / Scrapheap Challenge(UK). Following a PhD in Educational Neuroscience, exploring how creativity works in the brain, she has written a book for teachers about how brains work. She speaks and writes on a range of subjects.

Madeleine Rogers' background is in illustration, graphic and product design. Recently graduated with an MA in Sustainable Design, her practice is focussed on communicating wonder for the natural world to young audiences. She has authored and illustrated a series of books celebrating wildlife, which have been translated into several languages.

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I thoroughly recommend this book to you all, which is a vision of life viewed through young eyes in the year 2070. Whatever your age will be (or not be) by then,  just imagine the possibilities for your children, grandchildren and beyond that could be brought about by the immensely powerful creative imagination that is inherent in the human condition, that brought us to the point in time where we can carry a computer in our hand, travelling to the moon and enabled our immunity to diseases that killed swathes of our ancestors and the application of science and engineering, most if not all of which is already deemed possible by science and harnessing the will of all of us to solving the World's greatest challenges. 

Happy reading.

☺2024 John Anstie

D-Day … and all that followed

My first post for some time, but I felt a driving force compelled me to put it here … 

 In the light of the 80th Anniversary of D-Day (tomorrow) You might be interested in this quite brief and very readable article that puts perspective on some political and economic history that resulted from the Second World War. Admittedly, it is written by an American under her generic title “Letters from an American”, but I have been following her epistles and think, considering her natural bias, she does have an even hand in her research, observations and writing. There will always be alternative interpretations of the so called Marshall Plan, but each of us to our own.

And under the current government, we got Brexit that countered all the international economic cooperation and development that was aimed initially at avoiding in Europe at least, another 1930’s Great Depression in consequence of WW2. Later it avoided war in Europe, because countries that trade with each other are much less likely to go to war with each other. The purpose of Brexit was, of course, to divide and conquer. We now know it divided us into two camps. On the one hand those with their prejudices and anxieties; on the other, those with at least a modicum of ability to read beneath the headlines and a capability for critical thinking, and a perspective on history. The benefit to the US now, more than ever, is obviously the power of the multinational corporates that have a foothold in Europe and elsewhere (and their own and other centres of government). Nothing new there. The political motive is clearer now, 80 years on, as it is for World Leaders’ desire for economic strength and electoral votes.

The social, economic and political interdependence of all the countries and continents of our great big wonderful Earth is, perhaps, not so clear … but it should be.

QED

A Conference of Sparrrows

The Conference of Parties 2023 (COP28), full of promising opening statements has built its customary, dare I say, stage managed momentum towards another inevitable conclusion. This was 14 long media eventful days, bookended by an even longer closing 24 hours of negotiating the final agreement, laced with yet more promising closing statements. This was followed by a standing ovation and what felt like the kind of stage managed euphoria that would not be out of place at the Oscars. Moreover, it wouldn’t happen without caffeine (and who knows what substances and other encouraging mob-like influences), to lift by then flagging spirits. 

Picture credit: Max Mitrofanov (via tr1umph.deviantart.com) 

Representation by all the nations of the World along with all interested parties, there is no doubt that the huge presence of fossil fuel companies and lobbyists, far too many of which in the employ of or with a direct interest in oil, gas and petrochemical industries, as well as those who use vast amounts of their byproducts, far outweigh those nation states, whose more immediate futures are far less bright as a consequence of climate change. Shadowy figures walk the corridors of power with their barely concealed agenda, act as a powerful lobby along with those whose interests lie in retaining their grip on political control. Our future is unfolding before our very eyes; all the multifarious outcomes resulting from a confluence of the consequences of all the bad decisions that we ever made in our lives, seem like they are coming back to haunt us.

Now mightn’t that be a good place to start; in the future. The future of our children, their children and … so on ad infinitum (or not). That might well be a story with a happy ending or one that is severely truncated! But that all depends on what we do now; what we honestly, in reality, actually do; what we commit to doing in order to persuade those in control, like our elected governments, our local representatives who have a say on our behalf, making decisions that will truly change things for the better; making scientifically informed decisions, whose benefits will only be felt beyond the next few political elections and make a difference for all our future lives. 

So. The future. Our legacy for future generations. Whilst we still have some democratic influence on the aforementioned administrators of our government(s). As we write our last letters home to our descendants. What substance will our manifesto contain? Where can we start? Perhaps with a heartfelt apology for being a part of that generation of people, who have benefitted from post war prosperity, but nonetheless overseen the rise of the super powerful multinational corporations, the super rich, whose goals are to chase increasingly vast profits and shareholder values, is accompanied by geopolitical goals that give them the wealth and power that bring significant influence on government policy. 

“ You don’t get rich by spending your own money. “

All of this has accompanied a concurrent deterioration in all facets of our environment, for which all of us must bear some responsibility. Post war (that is WW2) generations have overseen and contributed, even if only in very small part, individually, but nevertheless unwittingly to the mess the world now faces, for which it is those seekers of the greatest wealth and power who must carry the lion’s share of responsibility.

This morning I stepped out into our back garden, partly in need of some fresh air and partly because I could hear through a double glazed back door, with a light rain drumming on the roof, the muffled sound of a choir of voices.  In another hundred years or so, will human ears still be able to hear this one of many of nature’s gifts? Will they have been silenced by extinction, or will it be like the tree that fell in the forest … that no one could hear, because there was no one there to hear it? 

Derek Spedding ... An Appreciation

Larger than life with a generous portion of intelligence and a sharp wit, a zest for travel, adventure and fun. Derek was also a loyal and generous friend. He was as robust and tough as Yorkshire grit; as hard and valuable as a diamond could be. If this sounds even a little overstated, there is without doubt one quality that stands out above all else. Much of his conversation was imbued with an abundance of humour, sometimes, it has to be said, rather wicked or even wacky! 

Derek and his humour were the glue that brought and held people together. In truth it was Derek, who made the extra yards in the early years of our friendship with him and Sue. Always turning up on the doorstep at short notice, to share some news on interests we shared together, be they music or people and places, in all of which we found mutual enjoyment. He would unexpectedly bring presents round for our children, who were, even in the early days, growing to love him, and eventually grandchildren’s birthdays, and even, occasionally, for us, often for no apparent reason. We would enjoy a soirée, each in turn at the others’ home for food, music and a chat ... sometimes till very late. 

He was an adventurer. His always busy head dreaming up the next adventure, ideas for which he and Sue would often share with us. And if we’d decide to say “not this time”, it would still take a while before he would give up trying to persuade us! His adventures varied from local gigs to globe trotting. As for the latter, I had spent several years travelling the World for my work and had sated any possible remaining travel lust. Barbara simply didn’t enjoy leaving home in an aeroplane any more. But there was never a dull moment with Derek around.

Our initiation into the world of Spedding adventures was a trip to Disney World in Florida twenty-two years ago. Our sons, the two Davids, were competitive swimmers, who met in the pool after they raced against each other, coming first and second in a very close race. It seems they fairly quickly developed a mutual respect for each other. Derek and Sue had told their Dave, who was known as ’Sped’ or, ironically, ‘Little Sped’ (when he and his dad were to be mentioned in the same sentence) that he could invite one friend to go to Florida with them. So he chose to ask our Dave. They’ve been best mates ever since. Of course we couldn’t let our girls be deprived of this chance, so we decided to push the boat out and we all went together. A balanced party of eight: Derek and Sue, Barbara and me, two boys and two girls, off to say hello to Micky Mouse. 

A few years later, we made a very long trip to Shetland by car, to visit ‘Little’ Sped, who was posted to the RAF station on the northernmost island of Unst. This turned out to be another very memorable highlight; an experience never to forget. And in between, quite a few concerts and evenings spent in their company, occasionally with another ‘swimming’ family, their close friends, John and Linda Owen.

A shared love of folk music also brought us together. Our first of two trips to the Celtic Connections festival in Glasgow one weekend was noted for our tripping the light (absolutely) fantastic, getting to bed at 5 in the morning and (me), after a mere two hours sleep, having to drive 250 miles home in the morning. Exhausting, but we’d do it all again if we could. Then, for a change, we discovered a new adventure, a lot closer to home. We introduced Derek and Sue to the Rusby family’s newly conceived festival, Underneath The Stars, which was on our doorstep at Canon Hall Farm. We had been volunteering as stewards from the very first festival in 2014, Sue and Derek came along to the second one a year later. However, by now they were globe trotting, planning adventures abroad well ahead in the calendar. Perhaps Canon Hall Farm didn’t quite live up to the now elevated “adventurous” category. But they enjoyed sharing with us the photographic results of their journeys. 

Then there were those regular moments, when Barbara and I would be relaxing watching TV in the evening. A text message or the occasional phone call from Derek would inform us of an upcoming programme on one of our favourite characters or places that could be folk music, or Amanda Owen, the famous Dales Shepherdess (who once fed us with tea and scones), anything to do with Shetland - usually wildlife, or something that invoked a memory of Disney World. We would often reciprocate. 

Derek also had some strident views about life and politics. We didn’t always agree, but then what two people ever do? Then again, what does it matter when life presents us with its inevitable conclusions. If it is a good life well lived, filled with lasting friendships, that must make those outcomes easier to bear ... mustn’t it? 

Sometimes, I guess because we are often so busy ‘leading’ our lives, raising our families, pursuing our careers, we don’t always show enough appreciation for what we have ... until we lose it. 

In pride, prejudice and profit ... there will always be lies, deceit and, ultimately, unhappiness. But there are a few circumstances, in which we can expect to find the truth. It will usually be found in poverty and poetry, but at no more prominent a point than in the passing of human life. I believe Derek had found his truth. To us it was evident that he’d discovered it long ago. He was true to his own convictions, even though there were occasions when I might have disagreed with him, but I have never had any doubt that he was a true friend. 

All of us have the chance to find our truth. Perhaps we should use this moment, and all too many opportunities like it, to seek that truth; to find what is important to us; to discover our strongest skills, stick to our guns and try to play our part, as far as it’s within our capacity, to make the world a better place. 

The World, from the perspectives of many, who knew him, was a better place because of Derek, because he dressed it with humour and, despite the exterior veneer of hard as diamond Yorkshire grit, he could barely conceal from us what underpinned it all … a place in his heart where there was no shortage of the capacity that lies deep in the wellspring of humanity, which is love. 

A Poem: 

Big Sped

Was it something we said made you yawn and tell us you’re bored?

a twinkle in the eye and recesses of a deadpan face,

like you’d read the Teach Yourself How to Avoid Social Grace

said it wasn’t the company you kept made you head for the door.

It was simply your way, and you’d always work hard to coax us

to embark upon journeys to visit our cultural heroes

or to see a substation, a distant in miles with some zeroes

the thought of them tiring, but always inspiring, make no fuss.

There were always those plans to conquer the Earth in a day

To sail the high seas to an isle on the edge of the World

trick the night to believing the sun hadn’t set and unfold

a belief that those fiddlers would never cease in their play.

Some journeys are harder than they were intended to be 

especially the last few miles before the peak

the pinnacle of the truth that we all seek

beyond reach, somewhere out there in eternity.

Was it something we said that made you respond in this way?

In the deepest recesses of a life-lorn deadpan face,

a twinkle you could read like a book of adventures in space

said it wasn’t the fare that we served made you call it a day.

~~~~~

© 2020 John Anstie

The Hallmark of Success

It is just over a year since an event occurred that has left an indelible marker in the memory.

It was on a wet and windy Saturday night, in early October 2019, in a little seaside town on the North Wales coast. The venue, whose size is almost out of proportion to its host, is international in its scope and contains a theatre that was packed to the gunnels, on all levels; and at £30 a ticket this is some achievement. What happened next was unexpected and quite extraordinary, at least for a group of amateur hobbyists, who sing for the love of it.

This group came together here, because they had been invited to be the guests of a large collective of women, who, like the men, happen to sing for love, not money. This is a routine invitation that happens every year to the chorus of men, who have won the chorus gold medal at their own annual convention. They neither opened the show nor closed it as the ‘headline’ act, but rather perform somewhere discreetly in the middle of the show. Somehow their performance turned into something quite different, something that few of us had experienced before, even those who had been on the stage with this chorus times many over the years in the winning of an amazing eight chorus gold medals in the forty years since they first came together in 1978.

We stood in silence, watching our Musical Director mouthing and miming instructions to us, to be alert and ready to perform, listening through the back of the stage curtains to a quartet singing their songs with huge hearts. Then, following applause for the quartet, we were announced ... reigning UK Champion men’s chorus, Hallmark of Harmony! But, as the curtains opened, there was a brief moment of time travel. 

It is always the case that every time we do a show, those ten, fifteen, twenty, thirty or forty minutes on stage seem to pass us by so quickly that it is easy to forget how it felt, whether I got all my words and notes right; whether I retained the right posture, facial expression, vocal quality, how I sang, whether I performed as I should. In that moment, I thought we had finished and the audience, which filled the theatre, were applauding, cheering, it felt like some were even standing to thank us. After that brief moment, it quickly became apparent that we hadn’t yet sung a note! We were being charged with energy from a very appreciative crowd, who, it seems, were either offering us the warmest of welcomes, or simply expecting great things ... 

I imagined in that moment what it must be like for a successful sports team or singing star, at the top of their game - with a large following of tens of thousands of fans - whose game is lifted by the energy of the crowd, its enthusiasm, its support. Well, ours was lifted that Saturday night. We were given wings ... and I believe we delivered on the promise.

It took only four songs, with their well thought out and entertaining links in between, telling stories of fun, joy, the value to the spirit of singing and gratitude for what we had achieved; for what the Sheffield Barbershop Harmony Club had done for Barbershop, for singing in the UK. Yes Sheffield. Once, in close living memory, the City of Steel; now, a city of music and of culture. A city where one of the four UK Assay Offices was created nearly two hundred and fifty years ago, to enable the accurate hallmarking of those highly valued objects made of silver and gold. Now a greater value is placed, maybe not by the establishment, but by so many extraordinary people, on creative endeavour, on helping both artists and audiences feel better about their lives. 

So how do we value the art of harmony singing? How can we put a stamp on it? How do we hallmark it?  In short, we cannot. In countless testimonies, the health and well-being of those who take up singing in groups, particularly in harmony singing, receives unquantifiable reward, not often with silver and gold medals, but every day, by raising the status of the human spirit. At a time when we are faced with burgeoning evidence of the corruption of politics, self serving interest and selfish greed ... for ‘things’, for stuff that provides, at best, only short term value and salve to damaged minds and spirits and now bodies, damaged by a cruel virus. You cannot put a price on it; on making music and art with friends. I don't know about you, but to me this is my idea of a successful life.

The Performance

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Epilogue

That was the recording of our 24 minutes on stage in Llandudno. The quartet that joined us for that final iconic song, Bridge Over Troubled Water, was OC Times, an International champion quartet from the USA. After this performance, as ever we do, the singing continued in the large bar of the Venue Cymru at what is always called the 'Afterglow'. As we stood with our beers, when the show had finished, the audience trooped out from the theatre. We found ourselves once again surprised and flattered at the apparent adulation we seemed to be receiving from those passing by us to queue at the bar. It was quite extraordinary. We did eventually perform “Without a Song”, arranged by our own Sam Hubbard, in what was by then a very large and crowded bar, where we managed to squeeze in a rather large gathering of singers from Hallmark of Harmony, along with two of the UK’s top ladies choruses, the Cheshire Chords and the Leeds White Rosettes to reprise the song, directed by Tim Briggs standing precariously on a chair, to resounding effect, along with some tears ... tears that recognise the fragility of the human condition, the frailty of the human spirit, but above all this, how full of joy the human heart can be, especially when we are in harmony with each other ... and with a song. 

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