If the freedom of speech is taken away then dumb and silent we may be led, like sheep to the slaughter.

- George Washington

Friday, 4 February 2011

The more I see of Dominic Raab ...

... the more I like the chap.

A REVOLT against giving prisoners the vote put ministers under growing pressure
from Tory MPs last night.

The controversial measure demanded by a European court faces a crucial Commons debate next week.

Two backbenchers yesterday called for the Government to ignore rulings from
Strasbourg that denying inmates the right to take part in elections breaches their human rights. Rising Tory star Dominic Raab, MP for Esher and Walton, insisted that the European court did not have the power to order Britain to give the vote to prisoners.

And Anne Main, MP for St Albans, urged the Government to refuse to pay any compensation.

Justice Secretary Kenneth Clarke has argued that the Government has to overhaul the voting rules or risk paying out millions.

But in an article, Mr Raab wrote: “It is time Britain drew a line in the sand. We can pay due deference to the European Court of Human Rights by having the Parliamentary debate it called for. But if Parliament then votes to maintain the current ban and MPs have been given a free vote Strasbourg will have to respect it.”

Spot on.

Source

"I know thee not, old man."

Rats in a cage:

Two Labour MPs have denied advising a colleague on trial over his expenses that he could make claims from one allowance to cover staffing costs.

Tom Watson and Steve McCabe told Southwark Crown Court they had not had such a discussion with Jim Devine in a House of Commons' bar in 2008.

Mr Watson told the trial he was surprised to be called as a witness: "I don't know what I'm doing here, if I'm honest, I hardly know Jim Devine."

The MP for West Bromwich East told jurors Mr Devine had been a "parliamentary colleague" but added: "I was a minister for a long time and he was a backbencher, so we didn't meet often and never did I socialise with him, so I hardly know him."
No honour amongst thieves.

Update: it gets better:

During cross-examination, defence lawyer Mr Millar said his client had taken advice from a member of the fees office called Andy Gibson.

Gibson has since been convicted for obtaining money by deception while he was processing expense claims and was jailed in September last year for nine months.

Seems he picked a wrong'un there.

Welsh Signage Again

From the National Botanical Garden of Wales:



I thought 'Tacsi' for 'Taxi' was a little redundant, but this is Cracers.

Hangman

Read this, and apply to your own situation: smoker, drinker, biker, free-thinker. It's highly relevant.

Hangman
Maurice Ogden

1.
Into our town the Hangman came,
Smelling of gold and blood and flame.
And he paced our bricks with a diffident air,
And built his frame in the courthouse square.

The scaffold stood by the courthouse side,
Only as wide as the door was wide;
A frame as tall, or little more,
Than the capping sill of the courthouse door.

And we wondered, whenever we had the time,
Who the criminal, what the crime
That the Hangman judged with the yellow twist
of knotted hemp in his busy fist.

And innocent though we were, with dread,
We passed those eyes of buckshot lead --
Till one cried: "Hangman, who is he
For whom you raised the gallows-tree?"

Then a twinkle grew in the buckshot eye,
And he gave us a riddle instead of reply:
"He who serves me best," said he,
"Shall earn the rope of the gallows-tree."

And he stepped down, and laid his hand
On a man who came from another land.
And we breathed again, for another's grief
At the Hangman's hand was our relief

And the gallows-frame on the courthouse lawn
By tomorrow's sun would be struck and gone.
So we gave him way, and no one spoke,
Out of respect for his Hangman's cloak.

2.
The next day's sun looked mildly down
On roof and street in our quiet town,
And stark and black in the morning air
Was the gallows-tree in the courthouse square.

And the Hangman stood at his usual stand
With the yellow hemp in his busy hand;
With his buckshot eye and his jaw like a pike
And his air so knowing and business-like.

And we cried, "Hangman, have you not done
Yesterday, with the foreign one?"
Then we fell silent, and stood amazed,
"Oh, not for him was the gallows raised."

He laughed a laugh as he looked at us:
"Did you think I'd gone to all this fuss
To hang one man? That's a thing I do
To stretch a rope when the rope is new."

Then one cried "Murder!" and one cried "Shame!"
And into our midst the Hangman came
To that man's place. "Do you hold," said he,
"with him that was meant for the gallows-tree?"

And he laid his hand on that one's arm.
And we shrank back in quick alarm!
And we gave him way, and no one spoke
Out of fear of his Hangman's cloak.

That night we saw with dread surprise
The Hangman's scaffold had grown in size.
Fed by the blood beneath the chute,
The gallows-tree had taken root;

Now as wide, or a little more,
Than the steps that led to the courthouse door,
As tall as the writing, or nearly as tall,
Halfway up on the courthouse wall.

3.
The third he took -- we had all heard tell --
Was a usurer, and an infidel.
"What," said the Hangman "have you to do
With the gallows-bound, and he a Jew?"

And we cried out, "Is this one he
Who has served you well and faithfully?"
The Hangman smiled: "It's a clever scheme
to try the strength of the gallows-beam."

The fourth man's dark, accusing song
Had scratched our comfort hard and long;
"And what concern," he gave us back.
"Have you for the doomed -- the doomed and Black?"

The fifth. The sixth. And we cried again,
"Hangman, Hangman, is this the man?"
"It's a trick," he said. "that we hangmen know
For easing the trap when the trap springs slow."

And so we ceased, and asked no more,
As the Hangman tallied his bloody score.
And sun by sun, and night by night,
The gallows grew to monstrous height.

The wings of the scaffold opened wide
Till they covered the square from side to side;
And the monster cross-beam, looking down,
Cast its shadow across the town.

4.
Then through the town the Hangman came,
Through the empty streets, and called my name --
And I looked at the gallows soaring tall,
And thought, "There is no one left at all

For hanging, and so he calls to me
To help pull down the gallows-tree."
So I went out with right good hope
To the Hangman's tree and the Hangman's rope.

He smiled at me as I came down
To the courthouse square through the silent town.
And supple and stretched in his busy hand
Was the yellow twist of the hempen strand.

And he whistled his tune as he tried the trap,
And it sprang down with a ready snap --
And then with a smile of awful command
He laid his hand upon my hand.

"You tricked me. Hangman!," I shouted then,
"That your scaffold was built for other men...
And I no henchman of yours," I cried,
"You lied to me, Hangman. Foully lied!"

Then a twinkle grew in the buckshot eye,
"Lied to you? Tricked you?" he said. "Not I.
For I answered straight and I told you true --
The scaffold was raised for none but you.

For who has served me more faithfully
Then you with your coward's hope?" said he,
"And where are the others who might have stood
Side by your side in the common good?"

"Dead," I whispered. And amiably
"Murdered," the Hangman corrected me:
"First the foreigner, then the Jew...
I did no more than you let me do."

Beneath the beam that blocked the sky
None had stood so alone as I.
The Hangman noosed me, and no voice there
Cried "Stop!" for me in the empty square.

Source
, with thanks.

Botanicals

Monday was Anna's birthday, and for once I did something right. (Something wrong was the year I forgot both our wedding anniversary and her birthday. It took a long time to live that one down.)

As a complete surprise, I took her for a trip to the National Botanic Gardens of Wales at Llanarthney. She's able to walk better these days, so I planned a modest trip round the gardens, followed by lunch in their restaurant. This was apparently a majorly good decision, combining as it does gardeny stuff, a trip out, and food. I arranged for a wheelchair to be available, but it wasn't needed.



View from the entrance, January colours, dome in background.

We last visited the Gardens in 2000, not long after it opened. Back then, it was plain that the project had huge potential, but there was little to see other than some magnificent structural designs and an ambitious plan. It had a hard time getting established, and has been notably less successful than, for example, the Eden Project. I wonder if the rather clumsy name has had something to do with this - it certainly doesn't have the zip of 'Eden'. However, it has made steady progress and is now the most visited garden in Wales.



Inside the dome.



This is a plant, I think. Very pretty.

If you have zero interest in gardening, as I do, then visiting gardens like this can be a bit of a struggle, an exercise in feigning interest until the bar opens. But I can recommend the NBGW to anyone. There's plenty of architectural interest, from an unusual double-walled garden to the magnificent dome that arches over the main exhibits. The staff are unfailingly friendly, keen and involved, food in the restaurant was excellent, and they served me a very good pint of Reverend James. Always a way to my heart.

The most memorable feature for me (remember, zero interest) is the drainage of the main path. The water collects in a large pond at the top of the slope and runs in a sinuous, winding culvert a few inches deep down the path. It crosses and recrosses the pathway, occasionally vanishing underneath, and you are always aware of its presence. The culvert is shallow and lined with white stones, so it is easy to see. It ends in a spiral trench which curls in on itself in the form of an ammonite shell before disappearing into the ground. It's a spectacular idea and well-executed. It was dry when we were there this week, but in a storm I imagine it would be endlessly fascinating.



It was designed by Kathryn Gustafson, who designed the Princess Di memorial fountain in Hyde Park, but this one has not had to be closed to the public for 'safety reasons'. It's simply stunning.

Everywhere you go in the gardens, there are little surpises awaiting you.



Close by is the house and garden of Aberglasney. This is a house which had fallen into complete disrepair, damp and vandalised, and the garden had become a jungle. Restoration began in 1995, and the restoration of the garden has been closer to archaeology than horticulture. There is an Elizabethan/Jacobean garden in there, on the way to being fully returned to its original form and planting. I'm not a gardener, but history and archaeology light my fire, and I'm looking forward to returning there. When we were last up this way, we did both in a day, but that would have been too much now. However, it does leave something in the shot locker for when I next need to be in Anna's good books.
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