Our shed and all it contains

Katzanzakis wrote 'Να αγαπάς την ευθύνη. Να λες: Εγώ μονάχος μου έχω χρέος να σώσω τη γης. Άμα δε σωθεί εγώ θα φταίω' 'Love responsibility. Say: It is my duty, and mine alone, to save the earth. If it is not saved, then I alone am to blame.' Arundhati Roy - my heroine - is especially good on wealth made through plunder in alliance with bribed governments.

'Capitalism’s real “grave-diggers” may end up being its own delusional Cardinals, who have turned ideology into faith. Despite their strategic brilliance, they seem to have trouble grasping a simple fact: Capitalism is destroying the planet. The two old tricks that dug it out of past crises -War and Shopping - simply will not work.' 

Alternatives to state-market collaboration are many. They are diverse; less visible for being, like bacilli or viruses, small. Wander through work associated with Elinor Ostrom:

 ...contemporary research on the outcomes of diverse institutional arrangements for governing common-pool resources (CPRs) and public goods of multiple scale builds on classical economic theory while developing new theory to explain phenomena that do not fit in a dichotomous world of 'the market' and 'the state.' Scholars are slowly shifting from positing simple systems to using more complex frameworks, theories, and models to understand the diversity of puzzles and problems facing humans interacting in contemporary societies...

Ostrom challenges widespread scepticism about community self-organisation in managing common pool resources (CPR) - 'game theory' and the 'tragedy of the commons'. Both paradigms suggest people can't be trusted; that either the market or the state or, in Roy's analysis, state-market collaboration, are essential antidotes to the chaos that is inevitable if people are allowed to self-organise. All of us educated by The Lord of the Flies are nearly right. Our hope lies in the dream that they-we are not absolutely right. Ostrom and her colleagues at Indiana, but also quite separate researchers, have analysed cases of failure, semi-failure, partial success and success from all over the world in governing common pool resources. Shared learning and diffusion of that learning is beginning to upset the traditional model of rich-to-poor aid. We 'rich' have much to learn from cases of self-organisation driven by the pressure to survive -invented and sustained in poorer countries. Seek out examples to move away from looking only to state or market, capitalism or communism.
I should have avoided the word 'allowed' in the context of 'self-organisation'. Even as they may promote it (Big Society for example) governments and corporations will undermine it in the way Roy describes, with seduction and - if forced - violence, preceded and accompanied by subtle and relentless spin. (a mild example: central-local double-speak in the case of UK local government by my friend and colleague Chris Game)
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An email just received  an abstract I submitted for an academic conference in Minneapolis next September:

Thank you for your submission in response to the call for papers for the upcoming Creating Public Value in a Multi-Sector, Shared-Power World conference. We received a remarkable response to the call, with many strong papers.  After careful review... (at this point I know it's not good news)...by faculty advisers from a variety of fields, we regret to inform you that your paper was not selected for inclusion. However, we hope your interest in the creation of public value will inspire you to attend the conference September 20-22, 2012 in Minneapolis, MN, USA. You can access the conference website and registration information here. Thank you again for your interest and your commitment to the study of public value in a multi-sector, shared-power world.  Kind Regards, John Bryson, Ph.D. McKnight Presidential Professor of Planning and Public Affairs

When it comes to applying for jobs, submitting papers or a thousand other endeavours I assume anything from a 10-1 failure rate upwards.  This doesn't mean I'm not miserable, vexed and chagrined - switching between 'sour grapes' excuses to myself and recognition my abstract wasn't interesting enough:

PROBING THE HEART OF DEMOCRACY WITH VIDEO...In the working conversations between politicians and administrators in government, values, whether as means or ends, are seldom spoken directly. Research access to such conversations...though a popular focus of fictional drama, is problematic. Since the 1980s, Baddeley has been refining methods for exploring how local government politicians and managers work together at what Weber called the greatest source of tension in the modern social order − the relationship between democracy and bureaucracy...As the methodology has been refined, it becomes easier to record the way values are embroidered into conversations about what is technically, legally and financially workable. Film has the benefit of recording verbal, non-verbal and para-linguistic exchanges, allowing minute examination of their dynamic. While film provides no special guarantee of unique authenticity, (the) methodology determines a contract between researcher and participants and their future audience which frames, for further investigation, an exchange between them that is always going to be a performance – but one that the participants are prepared to have presented for analysis as part of the value to which those involved in a public relationship of government...are committed. 

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Friday morning Lin drove us south-west 70 miles down the M5, M50 to Ross-on-Wye...

Ross-on-Wye on the way to Lydbrook

...and on to Lydbrook six miles further south on the edge of the Forest of Dean, where Royston is slowly and steadily making repairs to Rock Cottage. Since the children grew up and we started living to and fro - πέρα δόθε - between Ano Korakiana and Handsworth, we've neglected it. It's up Bell Hill, way up a steep narrow path some way from the highway, now nigh impossible for our parents.

There are few builders we've trusted as much as Royston. We suggest work; he assesses it; sends us a quote; we approve and refine the detail; he gets on with the work; lets us know when it's completed; we pay and discuss the next stage. Our neighbours - Kirsti and Paul -  a few yards away also keep us informed on the work, which started from the outside stopping ways in which damp had been entering some parts of the upper floor. With the roof and eaves sealed, there's a lot more to do.

A ceiling has been replaced in one bedroom, a wall lined in another, and now Royston will set about giving us a quote for replacing several window frames, two doors and sealing and painting exterior walls.
"When that's done we can stay here again" I said
"...and Amy and Richard will come without us."
"That's fine. That's OK. They'd never let us sell the place anyway."
Our hope -  to have all work completed by Summer 2013.

Richard and Linda at Rock Cottage - a summer long ago

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The best article I've yet read on the enormously sensible Greek Property Tax, written last September but updated by An American in Athens - a superlative blog. Her article carefully copyrighted, long and rich in detail and illustration, especially on interpreting information about the tax as it appears on electricity bills, measuring properties, exemptions (for types of disability and property), penalties for non-payment, multipliers based on zone and house age, appeals against assessment, future changes currently planned - including the spreading of payments over the year and a future shift away from collecting the new property tax via electric bills to separate bills - likely to start in 2013. People like us, as my grandmother used to say, ought to pay rather more tax, especially death duties. I agree even as I make as sure as I can that I have checked legal means of not paying. I have a relative who regards all tax as 'theft'; does not believe there is such a thing as a public good and regards HM the Queen with her persistent sympathies for the less well off as a dangerous left-winger.

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My mum's had a chicken run built at the end of her house, robust enough to keep out the Pine Martin - more of a threat than fox or rats in Strathnairn. Once the risk of a final cold spell is passed her chickens will move in - four or five now her carer's approval is won.

"Fine" said Sharon "as long as there's no cockerel"
"I'm going" mum told me "to have a pair of Rhode Island Reds and some of those speckled Scots Dumpies."

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Meanwhile in Ano Korakiana:

Η προσπάθεια συνεχίζεται αμείωτη...efforts continue unabated...following last Sunday's Agricultural Cooperative AGM, the registration of new shareholders...with a strong probability the necessary numbers will be recruited by the end of the month. Several young people have responded to the challenge, as well as subscribers from the wider region. Some cases remind us of the situation (one of many) when the family of Kontostanou Chariklia, in the 1930s when the Cooperative was striving to expand its facilities in an even more difficult economic environment. Shareholders took out mortgages on their properties to guarantee the loan needed for the Cooperative...So when, at Christmas, Kontostanou Chariklia's mother had tried to "sacrifice" one of her chickens to make lemon sauce,  αυγολέμονο, her husband had to stop her; telling her the chicken, and indeed the whole coop, was already mortgaged for the Co-op....below, a jar of sweet figs to go with Mrs Metallinos' recent registration

Nitsa Metallinos registers for the Co-op

Στον απόηχο της Γενικής Συνέλευσης του Αγροτικού Συνεταιρισμού του χωριού μας την περασμένη Κυριακή, η προσπάθεια για την εγγραφή νέων συνεταίρων συνεχίζεται αμείωτη, ώστε να καλυφθεί με ασφάλεια ο στόχος, έως το τέλος του μήνα. Μεταξύ άλλων, αρκετοί νέοι σε ηλικία έχουν προσφερθεί για τη στήριξη του δύσκολου εγχειρήματος, αλλά ακόμη και άτομα από την ευρύτερη περιοχή. Και δεν είναι λίγες οι περιπτώσεις που οι παλαιότεροι, μας υπενθυμίζουν την περίπτωση (μία από τις πολλές) της οικογένειας της Κοντοστάνου Χαρίκλειας, στα μέσα της δεκαετίας του 1930, όταν ο Συνεταιρισμός επιχειρούσε τότε να επεκτείνει τις εγκαταστάσεις του σε ένα αρκετά πιο δύσκολο οικονομικό περιβάλλον. Όλοι λοιπόν οι συνέταιροι είχαν βάλει τότε υποθήκη τμήματα της περιουσίας τους, προκειμένου να εξασφαλιστεί η δανειοδότηση του Συνεταιρισμού...Όταν λοιπόν, τα Χριστούγεννα η μάννα της Χαρίκλειας είχε επιχειρήσει να «θυσιάσει» μια από τις κότες που είχε στο κοτέτσι της για το αυγολέμονο, ο σύζυγός της την απέτρεψε ενημερώνοντας την ότι (και) το κοτέτσι τους είχε μπει στην υποθήκη για  το Συνεταιρισμό…...Όπως το βάζο με γλυκό σύκο, που προσέφερε η κα Νίτσα Μεταλληνού, μαζί με την εγγραφή της στο Συνεταιρισμό.

Heading back to England

Athens Venezelos Transit: Flew out of Corfu at 0625. On the plane someone next me noticed I was reading Kazantzakis' Christ Recrucified. 'Do you like Kazantzakis?' No! I said I 'much more than "like'''. She said people either loved or hated Kazantzakis. 'You?' I asked. 'I like him very much'. I asked what she thought of his views on women. 'His second wife said he was impotent. That might explain much'. 'Oh' I was bemused. I would have to think about that. Wasn't Job impotent? Why should she say such a thing publicly? I am reminded of my ignorance. I was intrigued by Kazantzakis' views on religion. She said 'He is quite accurate about the church'. Wasn't Kazantzakis, like Tolstoy, driven by man's inability do anything about the misery of human life? In this aren't they in the tradition of the stoics, of men like Zeno, Epictetus, Marcus Aurelius and every creative endeavour in art or politics by men or women to better - I mean 'better' as 'overcome - the human condition? I guess this was not the impotence to which his second wife referred. But in the matter of eloquent shouts against the darkness Kazantzakis forked the lightning and sang the sun in flight. I was in confessional mood, because reading Kazantzakis at the same time as I was leaving dear Greece, I was ready to show more emotion than an Englishman should. D had already commented a few days earlier, after I'd told him the plot of Zorba the Greek, that I liked the tension between the Greek and the Englishman - especially as it was played in the film. 'So you see yourself as Alan Bates?' said D. I said to C, on the plane from Corfu to Athens, that I had reservations when first kissed on both cheeks and embraced by the Greek side of my family '...because we didn't do that. Not when I was young.' I said I'd changed over the years, as had England, reverting to a pre-19th century expressiveness - even in the north. 'I love Greece. However bad things might be, I could never not!' 'Why?' she mouthed. I didn't hear her as we were leaving the plane, standing, reaching for luggage. 'Why?' she asked again. 'I was infected by my father a long time ago. I have no wish to be cured' 'How' she asked 'did your father come to Greece and learn Greek?' I mentioned I thought he might have been in Epirus in 1949, involved somehow in what was happening then. She listened almost too intently - a habit of discretion breached by my curiosity. Lin would say 'Your big mouth!' In-flight to Athens: From the plane window I can see the mountains of northern Peloponnese under dawn mist and a few white clouds. I’ve found a transmission on 102.5 FM3 which I like. A mixture of Greek voices of all kinds and music. Last night, as I drove between Kato and Ano Korakiana, to collect an Indian take-away treat from Brynn for my last evening, there was a talk on sacred choral music. A thoughtful voice commented on extracts from Saint-Saëns, Handel, Mozart and Monteverdi. This morning as I drove south in the dark on empty wet roads to catch my plane home I heard, on the same channel, the news and, amid dawn chaff, some Mendelssohn. I understand a phrase here and there. It's how I understand – or don’t understand – music, but music and uncomprehended Greek were more than agreeable. I want to understand the church here. I'm qualified by ignorance, respect and faithlessness. The ancient tension between Protestantism and Catholicism was still around when I was at school. The Spanish Armada, Bloody Mary, the Inquisition were alive in our histories, quite separate, then, from the troubles in N. Ireland. There were bombs in our cities until ten years ago. Somewhere in all the economic and ethnic interpretation lay the old division that began with Henry VIII’s divorce from Katherine of Aragon. But on the great Schism between the Latin and Byzantine Churches, between the two popes, between Rome and Constantinople, I have no unharboured prejudices to moderate and come innocent to the filioque debate

[8/01/08: This subject scores 116,000 hits on Google and over a thousand revisions in Wikipedia since 2001 - and that's just the English version. When I was studying anthropology at Cambridge - long ago - one of our lecturers told a story about a people in West Africa visited by missionaries from different Christian traditions. The Chief, detecting competition between his guests for new souls, invited them to debate their positions in front of a formal meeting of the elders. Recognising how unfortunate, even ridiculous, would be a public argument of the kind that had divided European Christians for centuries, the missionaries, recovering mutual respect and love, succeeded in solving a problem that still occupies theologians. Both knew the local language well and agreed that the words that described the concepts that divided them were insusceptible to local translation. 'For words are wise men’s counters, they do but reckon by them; but they are the money of fools, that value them by the authority of an Aristotle, a Cicero, or a Thomas, or any other doctor whatsoever, if but a man.' Thomas Hobbes in Leviathan, ch. 4 (1651) I recognise the irony of my reliance on that quote. It was one I learned from my superb history teacher, Charles Keeley, at Westminster and it's been a good friend since, along with many other pearls he shared] [Filioque issue: The Churches were arguing about whether the Son played any part in the origin of the Spirit as one of the persons of the Trinity from the Father, who is the only ultimate source. The Latin word filioque, which means 'and from the son', was gradually inserted by Western churches into the Nicene Creed so that it stated that the Holy Spirit proceeds not from the God the Father alone, as the early Church Fathers believed, but from both God the Father and God the Son. The Eastern wing of the Church believed and believes that the Father alone had given rise to the Holy Spirit, and the idea that both Father and Son had done so was condemned as heretical.]

'When I said goodbye, with a small gift, to the Leftheris, I was invited into their dining room and treated to a skirto, and a tasty quince sweetmeat - kidoni gliko κιδονι - and some figs sweetened and mulled in ouzo. Ten of these were put in a jar, sealed with a ribbon and given me to take home with spiced bread from a name-day service at one of the Ano Korakiana's churches. Was there a church for every name? 'But of course, we have many churches in Korakiana. ' I thought Kiria L was saying this proudly, but checking herself to make it sound like a light apology, lest she create the risk of too many blessings. Or was it that so many churches means much labour? I didn't think it meant division. In Ano Korakiana there are 'many mansions'. As I sat making do with a mix of non-verbals, and sparse Greek and English, Leftheris smiled and said he'd seen his marrow on the internet. I was shown some photos of the grown-ups as children - Vassiliki, Themis (Themistocles) and Katherina. I said I was very happy they were our neighbours. We shook hands gravely and parted. On Saturday of my one week stay, I washed clothes and set out to cycle and walk to Spartillas on the slopes of Pantokrator. At the sixth hairpin bend on the narrow road to Sokraki above Ano Korakiana, there’s a narrower road running sharply off to the left by a house on the corner – the only one that far up the mountain. I cycled for a bit, but the inclines increased and the surfaces deteriorated - grooved by torrents. I went up and up. I passed the two masts with their generator motors rumbling. The vista grew and grew under a mildly cloudy sky, until the track levelled off, the road surface improved and I was cycling again through a plateau of small fenced allotments each with vines. I came, around mid-afternoon, into Spartillas and then enjoyed the longest of freewheels down to the sea through over twenty hairpin bends, stopping occasionally to gaze over the land to the south. After more work in the cyber cafe including sending a report home to Lin I cycled to From Ipsos, I cycled the twelve or so kilometres to Corfu town, gazing back at the distant heights I'd ascended and descended. In this picture there's a crack in the wall almost certainly caused by one of the earth tremors that occur here fairly regularly. Later I cycled back to Kontokali to meet D and T for a supper at George's - a delicious plate of pork off the grill with chips and a Greek salad, then onto the Navigator’s Bar where, to my quiet delight, the Saturday night karaoke equipment failed and a spatulate fingered bouzouki player, who happened to be there, entertained us instead. D drove me home, with the Brompton in the back.

Blood and geography

Party for 75th Donors

I've been approached by a researcher from my own university and interviewed about blood. R is exploring relationships between blood and identity among blood donors who, like me, are O rhesus positive - the commonest type. We met and chatted in Starbucks, Colmore Row, for several hours. Seeing R's website I'm intrigued to see where this research will go and look forward to further involvement in her Phd. I'm up to 83 donations now. It feels easy, even enjoyable, and I've been doing it for so long and have become so accustomed to the process, I don't think about who gets my blood or the significance of the process of giving and receiving it. I'm thinking about it now and chatting to a researcher about this is a lot more interesting than the forced-choice phone MORI poll in which, by chance, I'd participated earlier in the day on my attitude to Information Technology. One felt like an exchange, the other like a donation - though MORI will give £20 to a charity of my choice in return for my participation. I chose RoadPeace. I realise now that a most significant event which I hardly remember because it was handled undramatically, at a dramatic time, was that Lin, who is Rhesus B negative, got a small jab at the time of Richard's birth, which prevented her creating antibodies that could, depending on our daughter's blood group, have been fatal to her when she was born four years later. A life threatening problem has now, through pre-natal data collection and minor intervention, become, to all intents and purposes, a non-problem. A fine example of the 'banality of good' * * * Had tea with Z this afternoon, at her house, where a guest room is ready for Dh. Our Iraki friend arrives at Heathrow soon. Friends, including Kate from CARA, will meet him at the airport and drive him to Birmingham. Z's away that day and so gave me spare keys and a briefing on turning on heating, rooms, cupboards, the shower and so on, before she returns later in the evening. This week I'll tighten up arrangements for Dh's arrival at the university the following day. He's survived daunting paperwork to get to the UK, and will now need to steer his wife and children here, while starting his Phd and finding campus accommodation for his family. * * * As well as Oscar, we have now got a tabby cat called Flea living here - a tiger in the house. She arrived temporarily a three months ago and looks as if she's decided to stay. She and Oscar co-exist by maintaining diplomatic distance. [CLICK on the picture of the cat and get ready to go 'Awwww!!' Then note the colour of the eyes. Definitely Greek, though whenever I think cat I think of Christopher Smart's cat Jeffry from Jubilate Agno - links there with Axion Esti. Richard's recent picture of Flea] An exchange with a Greek friend - CORFU KNICKERS CRISIS:

I get so much pleasure - and amusement - whenever I revisit your photos. I don't understand enough Greek to get all the humour but it feels infectious. We are recently returned from Corfu to enjoy some good rain, grey sky and chilly weather, and will return after Christmas. There was an 'incident' about which I wanted to ask your opinion, A young man called F has a sailing boat moored in xxx Harbour which he is fitting out. One day last month he hoisted his girl friend's knickers on the same halliard as his Greek courtesy flag (which foreign yachts always fly in Greek waters). 4 big policemen arrived in a 4 X 4 and asked his dad - living on another English yacht close by - if he knew who had done this crime. G said 'it's my son's boat'. Because F was under 21 his father is responsible for his son's actions and so he has been charged with a crime and must appear in court, probably in January 08. Do you know what is the best thing he should say in his and his son's defence? The pants were after all 'under' not 'above' the Greek flag and as soon as the police insisted the knickers - very very small ones - were immediately lowered. I know how important the Greek flag is to many Greeks but it is very difficult for British people to understand the meaning of the flag in Greek culture. I wondered if G could show your photo to the Judge (:)) Yours enjoyably, Simon

Reply:

hahahahaha! F is my personal hero! I fancy him! Go F go! That's what I would do if I were him! Much more things in life are more important than a 'patrida' and the love (sexual or emotional) for a woman is one of them! If F thinks his girlfriend is more important than any flag then he did all right hoisting her panties on that halliard! Go F! woohoo! stupid flags and what they represent! It is a tricky situation. Policemen in Greece are ummm... brutal, narrow minded, dumb and racists. If he (his father G) makes it to the court he should plead guilty and ask for forgiveness. The judge will not be harsh on him. Since that incident didn't make it to the news and there is no publicity to the matter it will be ok. The public opinion in Greece is against english tourists. But G can squeez himself through if he says something like 'F was drunk' or 'we just had it washed and we hoisted it up that sail to dry it'. I am not good at legal advice though! Mind me not! and yes he can show my foto to the judge. Hell, he can use my real name if he wants! But I don't know if this will help him! I hope it turns out good for G (and F)! Poor boy! hahahahahaha! knickers!

Reply:

Dear X. Your laughter is a breath of fresh air, Freedom!! Thanks for your mix of humour, sympathy and wise advice. Of course I won't show your photo - unless G faces death (:)) English people never get drunk, blasted, plastered, blotto, intoxicated, dipso, high, hammered, juiced up, pickled, legless or zonked, so the judge will not accept that excuse. 'We just had it washed ....' hahahahahahahahahahaha! That would be cheeky! I guess G could argue that when asked to take down the girl's knickers they were pulled down v.quickly. Do you think that would wash with the Judge? I just remembered that when those eccentric British plane spotters were in a bad place their Greek lawyer got them clemency when it was discovered there were also Greeks who indulged in the weird hobby of plane spotting (επισήμανση αεροπλάνων?). Much respect, Simon

Postscript to the above letter:

Friend. I am excited by this lecture about a play by Nikos Kazantzakis that I did not know about. As we left Venice for Greece on the ferry last February we met a man in leathers - a philosopher - on a motorbike travelling to Corfu. His name was Kapodistrias. I did not then know this name or what it meant. And then I read about the first governor of free Greece and his assassination. Then I read Kazantzakis after you had told me how you respected this writer but I did not know that in 1944 he had written a tragedy called Capodistria about the last few days in his hero's life, which said much about the paradox and tensions of modern Greek politics. Herete. Simon

The British are relaxed about their flag

You are not ignorant and you know it

Yesterday I had a tutorial on Greek culture while sitting in a virtual café with Leftheris. I recall from our conversation, though I have a headache this morning, that he apologised for not understanding the phrase "feel very dry"? I enjoyed going over the many uses of 'dry' in English. 'Dry wine' (oxymoron it seems but isn't), 'dry humour' (at which you don't laugh but you are amused), a 'dry book' (bit boring), "dry up" (another way to say "shut up", or to find oneself 'lost for words' in the middle of a speech). I'm sure there are more meanings. But most interesting he said "In school since I was a kid" that the "system divides people, it does not unite them. They learn us how to hate (Turkish, Skopian, Bulgarian, Italian, Arabs, Albanian etc.) The truth is that the Balkan people share common history beliefs and blood. That is a loooooooong story not discussed over the net as u say...." I will say no more here, except that we spoke into the night of many things about which my ignorance was wider than the whole Mediterranean and beyond the gates of Hercules (through which I sailed west many years ago - on my long voyage to Ithaka). And then Leftheris accuses me with a smile "You are not ignorant and you know it. You follow Socrates technique; 'one thing I know is that I know nothing.' I see what you are doing! You try to lead the chat in where you want without the other party notices it! That is not wrong! I try it some times! I am not offended, no!" At this I am almost in tears of pleasure and rather drunk. Then I said that he took the most beautiful pictures of women. That tourist standing in front of the Parthenon, in black and white. A pictures for which she has not posed but that does not invade but...but...create...erm...strong feelings of...erm...that photo will never dry! It is out of time." To ease my embarrassment because i thought may be it was a relative he gave me a large Kalamata olive, said it was just a lucky shot, and told me to 'dry up' and we switched to a discussion of agriculture in the Peloponnese. Later we depart to our separate homes 2000 miles apart, but he shouted as he strolled into the dark, "Kazantzakis is my favour author. I love him. such a great man. so modest! He fought against religion, slavery, inner fears, taboos...he was a truly free man! FREE!!!"