Fox raids Treasury

At last the first shots have been fired in the new Battle for Britain: the spending cuts (that is apart from the Police who are just threatening an increase in crime as they normally do).  No surprise that it was Liam Fox who fired the first salvo - a letter to the PM claiming that the MoD needs to be made a special case. They cannot be expected to make cuts, despite being given one of the less harsh savings targets of 10 -20% instead of 25-40% for most departments in the spending review.  The same Dr Fox that barely practised as a Doctor is in danger of having his Napoleonic ambitions thwarted too. Meanwhile Generation Ed have given strong hints that the UK can no longer pretend to be a military power and that we must work through the United Nations; if only PM Blair had stuck to this mantra on Iraq he would have escaped the odium that has been heaped on him.

I always find the MoD pitch for their budget a bit rich. They display all the procurement savvy and loyalty  of premiership footballers. They are as territorial in their defence of separate services and divisions as they once were of the empire. They have had a 90% increase in expenditure during the Blair/Brown years with little evidence that they have improved either procurement or the security of the UK.  A modest defence programme is vital, particularly if deployed within an international framework and for home security, but it can no longer be realistic to spend 2.5% of our GDP on defence. This is only exceeded by the USA and Russia of the developed countries. Most European countries including Germany, Spain, Sweden, Norway, Italy and Denmark, as well as Canada and Japan, are spending between 1.0% - 1.5% of their GDP on defence.  Only France, at 2.3% emulates the UK's obsession with hanging on to the dream of influence through armed force. Even if the UK reduced its defence expenditure by 10%, it would still have the highest defence spending in Europe.

The future reputation and respect for the UK will not be achieved by defence expenditure, we are not in the same league as the United States, China or Russia. It will be measured by our capacity for innovation, freedom of speech and human rights, greater social cohesion, ethical investment and global altruism.  And these activities cannot be defended by aircraft carriers, nuclear submarines or the latest missiles particularly when they are delivered late and usually over cost and affordability. And all parties agree that there can be no immediate reduction in the armed forces required in Afghanistan, Liam Fox is at when he cites this as the reason for exemption from cuts.

It may be that Dr Fox is smarter than he sounds. He must realise that the impact of the spending review on our communities and citizens will be far more apparent when care packages, benefits, new school building programmes, transport infrastructure, housing investment and basic services from libraries to refuse collection are all much reduced and the cost of public transport, pre school provision to university places are hiked.  He has possibly decided to make the first strike before the mood of the country changes.    We must hope that the PM makes an example of him for breaching cabinet responsibility, Dr Fox is a loose cannon.  At the same time the PM must think again about the devastation that will be caused by the cuts elsewhere, we are not Ireland.  It will not be long before the students, nurses, teachers, doctors, trade unions, civil servants, third sector and arts lobby join the fray when their ministers fail to go public in supporting them. And then we may see the coalition begin to wobble over its over enthusiasm for public spending cuts whilst the economy is still in free fall.

Generation Ed must raise its game and needs to put forward a robust argument for a more progressive spending review which does make a substantial reduction in debt but does not sacrifice jobs and the well being of people for tax concessions and weapons.

Norman Duerden

Ribbleton Hall County Primary School 

We all remember those teachers who made a difference in our lives. They generally treated you with respect, were fair-minded and encouraged you to enjoy and engage in the world around. Norman Duerden was my class teacher in the final year at Ribbleton Hall County primary school and he had all these qualities and more. He engaged us in activities that no school curriculum would ever throw together and he regarded the 3 Rs merely as tools for discovering and inspiring our real interests. He was comfortably at ease with himself in his green corduroy jacket with leather elbow patches, brown shoes, and V neck pullovers in natural colours as befits someone who was a naturalist.

I found a recording of him on Radio Lancashire the other day talking with great authority on wildlife in a  Ribble Valley and Beacon Fell broadcast, 1976.  It was pure nostalgia, the familiar intonations and genuine deep knowledge from a lifetime of interest in the natural environment. He had progressed from primary teaching into lifelong learning as the Vice Principal at Alston Hall College of Education.

Our year group was large with over 150 children and was divided into 4 classes. Mr Duerden, as the senior teacher in the school, took the A class which had 36 pupils with 23 girls and 13 boys. Mr Duerden introduced himself and his blackboard ruler; it was a yard long and he called it long Tom.  He explained that it was a multi-purpose implement which doubled as deterrence against bad behaviour and that he hoped it would remain just that. It did get an outing when Michael Cook transgressed just once too often but it was probably less threatening than Michael's mum. Our previous class teacher, a Mr Partington from Blackpool, was a suave, sporty type with a moustache. He had a Standard 8 car and a size 8 Dunlop tennis shoe that he kept on a shelf by the door and used fairly frequently in subjecting boys to corporal punishment.

I was reminded of Mr Duerden this summer when I was browsing in an Ambleside bookshop and discovered that he had published books on the Lake District and Scottish birdlife as well as contributing to books on the Yorkshire Dales. It all fitted so well with the curriculum that he provided for us. We knew it would be a different sort of class experience when he announced during the first week of term that when we finished our arithmetic or writing assignments we could go out on a nature walk or play cricket in the large school playground.

He provided enough exercise to keep the hyperactive amongst us calm in the classroom. He seemed unperturbed about seizing the moment and supervising, without any support staff, 36 pupils on trips and jaunts with no risk assessment to diminish the pleasure of the immediacy. He would take us into Red Scar Wood and show us the diverse birdlife including sparrow hawks, explain the origin of pits (ponds) in the boulder clay that held greater crested newts and show us the different butterfly species at the fag end of the summer.

Unlike other teachers who divided the class into two genders, he would involve everyone in everything. When he bowled at cricket the speed and spin on the ball would accommodate the different abilities of all children, both the girls and the boys. He was not a soft touch and banned me from batting after I broke the caretaker's kitchen window for the second time; the bungalow had been foolishly built at mid-wicket. No one resented these punishments as they were usually appropriate.

At break time one of the class would be dispatched to the mobile van to buy him a Wagon Wheel and on the days he was on yard duty - yes teachers used to do all these things - he would turn a blind eye when we cockled over the 6 feet high railings to retrieve balls from the out of bounds streets surrounding the school. How else could we continue to play our ball games? Through these discrete indiscretions, he won the respect of all pupils, we knew that he would turn a blind eye. He worked us hard over the winter for the eleven plus but still made school a place to enjoy with all sorts of random outings and trips to break the monotony of classroom boredom. He took us on a wet December morning to watch Harold McMillan, the prime minister, open the M6 at Preston, it was the first stretch of motorway in the UK. The PM's lumbering Daimler was in a convoy of black police cars and looked more like a hearse than a limousine.

The year culminated in a week's holiday to Newlands holiday fellowship in the Lake District. It was glorious in June and I still have vivid images of every day. Our parents paid a deposit and then half a crown a week throughout the school year into the holiday fund, it came to £4 17s 6d for the seven days but we got a refund of 10s 0d. This was greatly appreciated by parents as the summer holidays started and school uniforms for secondary schools were required. No wonder parents thought they had 'Never had it so good' as Harold MacMillan quipped in the election of that year.

We were introduced to red squirrels, launches on Derwentwater, hill walking on Hindscarth and Dale Head, feeding trout in the beck that runs alongside a Grasmere cafe and climbed Orrest Head above Windermere to witness the glorious Lakeland landscapes. We built a bird hide to watch the birds in a hedgerow, visited Keswick and had a barbecue on the shores of Derwentwater. Mr Duerden introduced us to Vivian, the man who opened the gate at Ashness bridge with a jay sitting on his shoulder. 

Throughout the week we were given the freedom that children require and we were treated as responsible young people. He inspired 50 or so Preston children by showing us the magic that is the Lake District and the importance of looking after the park for the benefit of others and future generations. Like the best of teachers, he taught us how to discover and enjoy the mesmeric scenery and to appreciate wildlife. The experience was certainly the highlight of my school education.

As the baby boomers, we were privileged to receive public service excellence that is talked about but not often achieved in 2010. Norman Duerden managed it because he had intrinsic values that should be at the core of a public service ethos but are lost today as services are contracted out and by the tangled web woven by the regulators and inspectorates.

Norman Duerden passed away in January 2013 and I have posted an appreciation at Norman Duerden, FRSA,1919-2013

Vale of Newlands

Vivian Fisher at Ashness Bridge

Leaving home for Newlands, June 1959

Beinn Dorain and the Big Four

Looking South from Beinn Dorain

Stob Ghabhar and Glencoe from Beinn Dorain

Loch Tulla, Beinn Starav and Stob Gabhar

Rannoch Moor to Ben Nevis

Buchaille Etive Mor

Mamores, Ben Nevis and Grey Corries over Rannoch Moor

Glencoe from Beinn a' Chreachain

Beinn nam Fuaran near centre with Ben More and Stobbinnein far centre

Coire an Dothaidh in evening light

Saturday 25 September 2010

2210 metres ascent, 26 kilometres, 8 hours 44 minutes

Beinn Dorain             1076m, 1hr 42mins
Beinn an Dothaidh     1004m, 2hrs 49mins
Achaladair-south top 1002m, 3hrs 50mins
Beinn Achaladair       1038m, 4hrs 11mins
Meall Buidhe               978m,
Beinn a' Chreachain   1081m, 5hrs 29mins


Some days just overwhelm you with the lightness of being and this was one.  A cold northerly wind and the car was frosted up for the first time this year.  I collected my friend Mark from Callander and we headed north and west. High cloud was obscuring the promise of better conditions to come but by 9:00am we were parked at Bridge of Orchy railway station and briefly considered hopping on the night sleeper, which was waiting at the station for the single track ahead to clear.  A quick trip to Corrour would have allowed a round of Loch Ossian munros but we were spoilt for choice and figured that a long hard day walking in high places would be more productive. Beinn Dorain is one of four 1000 metre summits which are linked together, they overlook Rannoch Moor and provide all round panoramic views across most of central Scotland as well.

We started the ascent up Coire an Dothaidh which was boggy as always and already a few other walkers had departed and were dots in the corrie.  A lone runner bounded down as we were halfway to the bealach and by the time we reached it we had passed a number of walkers. We turned south at the bealach for the long and steepish slopes up to Beinn Dorain.  It is an imposing pyramid of a hill from the south and dominates the views from the A82.  The first substantial cairn is not the summit although many walkers get this far and assume it is, I have helpfully told some walkers that they are not at the summit on previous visits but this news is not well received.   No problems today, the visibility was excellent although the bitter wind was not melting the ice on the summit so it was time to dig out gloves and hat as we retraced our steps back to the bealach into the face of the wind.

Beinn an Dothaidh is the least impressive of the four hills mainly because the last 200 metres of climbing are on a steep slope which is a permanent bog until you emerge onto a narrow grassy ridge overlooking the north face.  We turned eastwards and descended 250 metres to the next bealach at the head of Coire Daingean and found a bit of shelter to eat some lunch and take a first break after 3 hours of walking.

The day just got better and better from here, the long uphill section to the south top was augmented by ever expanding views and the lip of Beinn Achaladair provides an airy promenade with superb views across Rannoch Moor to Ben Nevis, the Mamores and Grey Corries in the north west. The skies were shifting from grey/blue to blue/grey and the green of the hills was turning brown as the bracken and heather provided the hues.  The sharp descent down the edge from Achaladair was the only part of the day that required scrambling over slabs of rock but it was dry today. I can remember it being quite tricky in winter conditions and having to spend time showing a friend how to use an ice axe before we started the descent on that occasion.

After the bealach there was another short climb to Meall Buidhe and then a pleasant grassy ridge before the final dropand then 155metres of steep climbing up to the stony summit of Beinn a'Chreachain which we reached at 2:45pm.  We finished our food, admired the panorama that encompasses munros in all directions and chatted to other walkers before setting off to do the return walk.  I took some photos and considered sending them to my friend to see if he could identify the location but his phone does not take e mails and he was sitting next to me anyway so it would not piss him off as it does when he is sitting in an office.

We had considered going over to Beinn Mhanach but it would add another hour and a half and there was stalking in the corrie according to the couple from Edinburgh who had set out to climb Beinn Mhanach.  It was a long walk back with superb views all the way but involved another 400 metres of climbing as we had to re ascend most of Beinn Achaladair and Beinn an Dothaidh to avoid the steep cliffs on their eastern slopes.  We arrived at the bealach below Beinn Dorain at 5:17pm and descended the last 600 metres rapidly in the beautiful evening light making it back to the car just before 6pm. It had been a hard but extremely satisfying day, and I did feel a bit sleepy when collecting a daughter from a wedding in Stirling shortly after midnight.

Tangled Up in Blue

I listened to Nick Clegg this morning and realised that in this secular society, we still have believers - in power. His defence of going into the coalition and winning some concessions was well rehearsed and delivered with religious zeal. Unfortunately, the supposed victories in setting up a coalition: a referendum on alternate voting, raising tax thresholds and tackling tax evasion pale into insignificance when tangled up in blue valedictories for many of our public services. 

Danny Alexander continues to believe that there must be an unprecedented wipeout of public expenditure and, anxious to step up to the mark of the esteemed David Laws, seems to have swallowed George Osborne's fantasy that reducing public spending more than Mrs Thatcher is the only solution. This is despite recent pronouncements by many bodies, including the OECD, that there is a real danger of the economy slowing down with another recession possible. There is a consensus emerging amongst economists that austerity measures could result in long-term damage to the GDP of the UK.  The Lib Dem leader seems to have bought into the deficit reduction programme without seeing its content or judging its impact.  As Nick Clegg seems to refrain from doing contrition here are some words for his next big speech as the real cuts, as opposed to threats, begin to bite with the onset of winter.

Oh Danny boy, the pipes, the pipes are calling,

The summer's gone, and all the flowers are dying.

'Tis you, 'tis you must go and I must bide.

Wainwright Bashing: Day 2

Catbells, Skiddaw and Derwentwater

Friday, 17 September 2010

Total Ascent:    1980 metres
Total Distance   22 kilometres
Total Time:        8 hours 10 minutes

Walk 1

535metres,  6km, 2hrs 41mins
Bessyboot               551m       1hr 11mins,
Rossthwaite Fell    612m        1hr 27mins

Walk 2

610 metres, 5km, 2hrs 14mins
Maiden Moor         576m        1hr 12mins

Walk 3

835metres, 11km, 3hrs 15mins
Bakestall                 673m       55mins
Great Calva             690m    1hr 57mins



After a remarkably comfortable night at Langstrath in the tent, we had a cheese roll and water for breakfast before sauntering out of the campsite and immediately up a steep path through the oak woods by Stanger Gill leading up to the fells above. The Pope may have been in Glasgow today but we felt that we were the ones in heaven. The sharp light played on the bracken and the crags provided an intricate jigsaw puzzle as we kept climbing upwards through superb scenery with Herdwick sheep, as bred by Beatrix Potter, acting as extras in a film set that Gregor described as better than Lord of the Rings.

We did find Bessyboot, what a glorious name for a hill, where a Herdwick sheep was posing and bossing the summit. The view across to Rossthwaite Fell was beyond the Tarn at Leaves and we negotiated the numerous descents and ascents before the final scramble to the summit. There were wonderful views in all directions and we agreed that this was one of the very best of Lakeland fells, contrary to Wainwright's somewhat dismissive tone. We sensed our route back to the path leading down through the oak woods and arrived back at the campsite thoroughly pleased with our morning excursion.

We packed the tent and set off for Grange-in-Borrowdale and then to Manesty on the shores of Derwentwater from where we would climb Maiden Moor. Why I had not climbed Maiden Moor before, I am not sure. I had been up Catbells dozens of times often with a child on my back and others in tow. We parked at Manesty near the home of Hugh Walpole, who wrote two anthemic novels about this area - Rogue Herries and Judith Paris, and proceeded up a stone staircase to Hause Gate, the col between Catbells and Maiden Moor. Gregor asked whether had he climbed Catbells and I told him, yes, but I had probably carried him in the knowledge that it would send him on a detour and give me time to make Maiden Moor before him, but only just.  We admired the views from Maiden Moor including the Vale of Newlands, one of my favourite places from the school trip and it is the location of Mrs Tiggy-Winkle's laundry.

On the descent we were surrounded by hundreds, yes hundreds, of autumn walkers; the baby boomers complete with walking poles and making a noise like the world knitting championship as they clattered up and down the stone staircase.  If the coalition wanted a quick win for tax-raising they could do a lot worse than introduce a walking pole tax.  We were down before 2pm and decided to drive north to do some hills north of Keswick.

We were both a bit stiff from 4 walks in the last 25 hours but, notwithstanding, I decided that we would attempt Bakestall and Great Calva, my 2 remaining hills in what is known as Back o' Skiddaw.  They were a stiffer challenge than we had admitted to ourselves from looking at the map.  Bakestall, or Bakewell as I kept calling it required a sharp climb of 400 metres from the track to Skiddaw House and the top was merely an outlier of Skiddaw. We immediately rechristened it, Tart.

We made a muddy descent back down to the track and then after ascending the track for a kilometre struck up the slopes and suffered a horrendous 3km trek across a spongy heather moor that in Scotland would at least have had a soundtrack of whirring grouse. We reached the summit with great relief and descended via Little Calva and then back down to the track just above the Whitewater Dash, a quite amazing waterfall that would do well at Disneyworld, it merits a repeat visit sometime in the future.


We arrived back at the car knowing that this had been a punishing day, 2000 metres of climbing and 22 kilometres on 3 separate walks with no lunch.  We drove along to Caldbeck and had an early supper in the Oddfellows Arms before driving back to Glasgow.  It had been a highly productive two days and a great reunion with the lake district in autumn but I must buy some walking poles so I fit in with the baby boomers.

Herdwick posing on Bessyboot

In search of Bessyboot

Tarn at Leaves below Bessyboot

Derwentwater from Maiden Moor path

Vale of Newlands and Catbells from Maiden Moor

Bakestall

Great Calva and the heather from hell

From Great Calva

Whitewater Dash

Lakes - Wainwright Bashing: Day 1

Carrock Fell

The Lake District is a very special place for many reasons. For a start, my parent's honeymooned in Langdale at the then Langdale Hotel which is now called Wainwrights, and 41 weeks later I arrived. As a young child my first excursions to the countryside, other than on local jaunts on the family tandem, were always to the Lake District in a hired car, usually an Austin A40, with my Grandma, a spinster aunt and my parents. We queued up with other traffic on the A6 to Lancaster and followed a scenic route through the Lythe valley to Newby Bridge and then up the west side of Windermere where we stopped for a picnic lunch and for Dad to do some fishing. We continued to Langdale and returned via Ambleside where we had ice cream at Waterhead before returning via Kendal and the A6.

Our school trip in the final year at primary school was a week in Newlands near Keswick and our class teacher, the inestimable Norman Duerden, took us hill walking onto Hindscarth and Dale Head as well as walks on the lower hills of Catbells, Orrest Head, Walla Crag and Causey Pike.  It remains a fond week in the memory and probably inspired a lifetime of adventures in the mountains.

As a teenager, my first holiday with friends was an eleven-day youth hostelling trip in the Lakes where I fell in love with the Lakeland fells, a wide range of beers and two girls from opposite ends of the Leeds - Liverpool canal.  At university most terms ended with a few days spent at a friend's flat in a converted barn on Lake Windermere. We rock climbed in Langdale, sailed and frequently capsized a GP14 dinghy on Windermere, walked and sometimes ran in the fells and visited most of the Lakeland pubs.

Almost all my trips home to Lancashire after moving to Scotland in 1973 were interrupted one way or t' other by a diversion through the lakes, often stopping for a quick excursion into the fells.  Since 1984 we have holidayed there every year for a week in Langdale. Although I have climbed the popular hills like Scafell Pike, Helvellyn, Great Gable, Crinkle Crags and Langdale Pikes on numerous occasions, I eventually began to tick off the 214 hills identified and described with great precision and dry wit by Wainwright in his pictorial guides to the Lakeland fells. That journey is now almost finished and on Thursday I set out with Gregor for 2 days that could only be described as unadulterated Wainwright bashing.  I have now only ten left to climb and I would hope to finish next year at the start of the Langdale week.  The outings for the two days are described below.

Thursday, 16 September 2010

Total Ascent:      1345 metres
Total Distance:   18 kilometres
Total Time:         4 hours 49 minutes

Walk 1

Ascent:       810 metres
Distance:   10km
Time:         2hrs 27mins

Carrock Fell    663metres     1hr 7 mins
High Pike        657metres     1hr 42 mins   

Blencathra from Carrock Fell

High Pike from Carrock Fell

High Pike

Carrock Fell from High Pike

We left Glasgow at 9:30am after Gregor sorted out a job offer and we made good time down to the lakes before the traffic controls to allow the arrival of the Pope in Glasgow kicked in.  I calculated that there would be time to climb Carrock Fell and High Pike near Caldbeck and then drive on to Borrowdale to do another couple of hills in the late afternoon.

Gregor directed me with great precision to a starting point for Carrock Fell and High Pike at Calebrack. There was ford which looked too deep for my car so we stopped short, parked on some common land and ventured out into the breezy cool air and ascended the Carrock Beck for some distance before deciding that we would climb Carrock Fell first. There was a steep grassy slope with a well-used track providing a quick if tiring route to the summit.  The top was amidst a boulder field with a splendid cairn, now looking far higher than the one captured in Wainwright's sketch. It was chilly for September but the views were very good in all directions.

We set out to cross the boggy marshland to High Pike and I was grateful for Goretex shoes.  Gregor quickly gave up any pretence of keeping his feet dry and tried on a couple of occasions to push me into deeper water, he needn't have bothered my feet were wet too but I was not going to admit that, it is discomforting enough trying to keep up with him.  There were quite a few walkers out and about including half a dozen at the summit of High Pike. It looked like pension day at the post office with Gregor taking photos for grateful groups of older ladies with their walking poles. We descended directly passing the Driggeth mine and the large shale deposits and then found a good track which brought us back to the ford and helpful pedestrian bridge.

We were well ahead of schedule and popped into Keswick to buy a snack at the Coop. We were only inside for a couple of minutes but I managed to pick up a £50 parking fine as they had introduced a new parking system and I had not displayed a parking disc inside what was always the coop car park. I went to the Council offices and lodged my appeal with the helpful staff who admitted that they had no discs and that it seemed unfair. They encouraged me to write an appeal which I did before we set off down Borrowdale or England's grandest valley.

Walk 2

Ascent:         535 metres
Distance:      8km
Time:           2hrs 22mins

Eagle Crag             503metres            44 mins
Sergeant's Crag      571metres      1hr 37mins

The ascent of Eagle Crag

Borrowdale from Eagle Crag

Sergeant's Crag looking north

We drove up to Stonethwaite and continued to the campsite at the end of the track, pitched the tent on the banks of the blue/green beck and immediately set off for Eagle Crag which loomed above us.  Wainwright had said  'This is a beautiful fell, often admired, seldom ascended'.  We soon found out why. We crossed the Langstrath beck and contoured round the base until we found a faint trace of a path by Lakeland standards that took us up through the bracken to the crags where Ravens were circling.  It was then a crag maze as we zig-zagged our way to the summit.  But it was well worth it with great views back to Borrowdale and a whole showcase of Lakeland fells surrounding us at all points of the compass.

We made the short crossing to Sergeant's Crag and then a steep descent westwards to Black Moss pot during which a passing shower gave us a good soaking.  The Cumbria Way followed the beck and gave us an easy trek back to the campsite.  We dumped our rucksacks in the car and continued the walk down to the Langstrath Country Inn, a traditional Lakeland pub with a fine menu and selection of beers. We enjoyed a superb supper of traditional steak and kidney pudding washed down with some Jennings Cumbria ale before continuing to the hotel at Rossthwaite to watch some football and have a couple more beers and then walking back to the tent.

Cable Mail

PO Box, Winckley Square, Preston

When I worked on the strategic plan for West Central Scotland (the Glasgow city region) in the mid 1970's, Vince Cable was one of our trusted academic advisers from the University. He helped us evaluate the social impact of different economic and land use strategies on the population.  He was a doughty champion of the rights of the most needy and challenged with objective evidence and considerable passion the economic orthodoxy of encouraging inward investment from outwith the UK instead of nurturing the local economy and indigenous industries.  He was good company on Friday evenings in the Curlers bar and even amongst a group of academics, economists and consultants his politics were post office red compared to the pink tinge of the majority.

It was surprising to hear him over the weekend arguing for the privatisation of the Royal Mail.  He was careful to keep to the coalition script that it was just Royal Mail that would be privatised and that the post offices would remain public. Who do they think they are kidding? Most rural post offices, assuming they have survived the last government's unwelcome purge are privately run. Hundreds of Mrs Goggins are paid a pittance for the privilege of working dawn to dusk, 52 weeks a year and 6 days a week in their shops to provide an essential service particularly to the elderly, disabled and those on various benefits. They certainly have a strong public service ethos and they are stalwarts in their communities.  They also work closely with the Royal Mail staff to provide a seamless and important service that reaches all parts of the UK.

The arguments for the privatisation are taken from the revised Hooper-report, which estimates that the number of items delivered will fall by 25% -40% over the next 5 years. Really?  The amount of mail seems to be increasing all the time, admittedly a lot of it is junk and another big tranche is from internet shopping which is rapidly increasing as men realise that they need never go to the shops.  The post workers seem to confirm this on discussion boards in response to the recent proposals. The second argument is that the government could not afford to make the necessary capital investment to the Royal Mail infrastructure. What a feeble argument, in order to attract a private buyer they are prepared to fund the £8bn pension deficit, which is larger than the investment needed to modernise the Royal Mail. As with many private companies it is the pension cost that is most threatening to the long term sustainability of the organisation and if this can be offloaded onto the government then they are happy to take the profitable business.

So instead of the post offices and Royal Mail providing an integrated postal service, it will be privatised or some company (such as the dutch based TNT) will buy the Royal Mail and make the 'necessary investment' to modernise the service.  In practice this will probably mean divesting many of the Royal Mail property assets in our towns and cities.  The previous government did this with the post office reviews and instead of a network which included some magnificent Victorian city centre post offices we are now expected to go to tacky counters nestling beyond the chocolates and magazines in the far corner of WH Smiths.  The new 'Cable Mail' will operate through a smaller number of regional depots and many towns and villages will lose their sorting offices which are part of the post office.  The railways will no longer be a vital part of the network as the transport of mail will increasingly switch to road.  It will be narrated as 'modernisation and efficiency' and you can forget sustainability. Auden's night mail poem will need to be edited.

'Thousands are still asleep,...

They continue their dreams,

And shall wake up soon and long for letters,...

And none will hear the postman's knock.......'

I have no problem with competition from other parcel delivery companies, sometimes they work very well for bulky items and they have seized the opportunity to grab a share in the growth in parcels as we increasingly rely upon internet shopping.  But I have observed that the much vaunted parcel companies are generally slower than the Royal Mail and its ancillary, Parcel Force, and they are usually more costly, check it out on eBay.  And if you are not in at the time of delivery, instead of popping into the post office to collect your goods, you have a 30 or 40 mile drive to the nearest depot, or you pay for a redelivery. It is not what you would call an improvement for working households and those without private transport.  Have we not learnt the lesson from splitting up the railways?  Disassembling integrated services seldom suits the customer and inevitably leads to price increases or huge subsidies. Vince seems determined to hive off the red pillar boxes and vans but it could just be a ploy to open a new front at a time when many other public services are to be savaged by his coalition stablemates.  

Glen Almond Corbetts

Head of Glen Almond with Creag Uchaig in the top left

Mountain Hare on Creagan na Beinne

Summit of Creagan na Beinne with Loch Tay amd Ben Lawers range beyond

Wednesday, 8 September 2010
Ascent:      1305 metres 
Distance:   21 kilometres, 
Time:         5 hours 25 minutes

Creag Uchdag,          879m    2hrs:14mins
Creagan na Beinne,   888m    4hrs:12mins

After two days of gale force winds and rain, I arranged to meet my daughter on the way back from a short honeymoon on Colonsay, her husband was filming 'Salmon Fishing in the Yemen' but in Aviemore.  Killin is halfway between the ferry which lands at Oban and Aviemore and the optimal meeting point.  It seemed a good opportunity to take in two Corbetts to the south of Loch Tay which are in the catchment of the upper reaches of Glen Almond.

Corbetts are all the scottish hills between 2500 feet and 3000 feet with a drop of at least 500 feet to the next nearest corbett or munro which makes them less easy to combine than with the munros. There are 221 of them which I have collected slowly over the years and I am still a few short of the first 100. Some are magnificent hills in their own right, such as Arkle and Foinaven in the far north, those in Ardgour and Moidart as well as most of the island corbetts. Others are good hills with knolly summits often flatter and more convex than the average munro and some are fairly tedious lumps. I have always assumed that I would eventually climb them all but, without setting targets, they seem to remain elusive. Why do one or two corbetts in a day when you can do four or five munros?

I drove to Ardtainaig which is beyong Ardeonaig on the south Loch Tay single track road and spent quite a while waiting for a flock of sheep to nervously skitter past accompanied by a farmer's wife on a quad bike. I found a parking spot at Ardtainaig by an incongruous tennis court and decided to climb Creag Uchdag first which involved a long uphill slog over wet ground and with no real views - all the tops were in cloud.  It was a trudge and only when I had walked over Tullich hill and seen the first of many black grouse did I begin to charge realising that with delays leaving home I would be hard pressed to do them both. 

The peat hags surrounding Meall nan Oighreag did not speed progress and as I ascended into the clouds that enveloped Crag Uchdag I had given up on the idea of doing Creagan na Beinne as well.  I sat on the summit slightly forlorn and sent a photo of the cloud obscured view to a friend who is an absolute anorak when it comes to knowing the name and shape of all hills.  I thought it beyond anyone's powers of deduction but maybe he had planted a GPS in my rucksack, because sure enough the right answer came back. I must use him on 'phone a friend' if I ever go on who wants to make a tit of themselves.  But then a text from Eva, the ferries were running late and I would have at least an extra half hour.  I had spent 20 minutes at the summit but descended at pace into the corrie that holds the source of the river Almond.

I was slightly apprehensive as I saw an eight track approaching but the farmer was friendly, he was out to shoot a stag and had I seen any.  It was a surprising question because I had not which is very unusual on any day in the scottish hills.  I continued down to Dunan and set about the steep slopes ahead to Creagan na Beinne, I knew it would be tight for time and there was no slowing as I ascended the 500 metres to the summit in little over half and hour.

I immediately set off down, taking the odd photo on the move but then I was surrounded by hares popping up all around me from tufts of grass.  As I began the descent a mad hare ran down the hill and skirted round me as though I was second base and ran back up the hill as if completing a hare dare, where were the eagles?  I was going to be slightly late but I got another text - so were they. It felt like I was in Alice in Wonderland and it must be tea time so I stopped for a drink and an orange before dropping into the emerald green pastures of Glen Chilleine.

The walk out was on a glorious autumnal day with the rowan berries competing with the blue of the sky and green of the grasslands for colour primacy.  I jogged the last few hundred metres, changed shoes and set off for Killin.  It had been one of those days which just got better all the time and chance to see my newly married daughter as well.  We sat by the Falls of Dochert with a beer to conclude an unusual day before her husband continued to Aviemore and we drove home.

Connaught - first casualty of the public spending cuts

Connaught is more usually associated with a luxury hotel or, for people of my vintage, a strange racing car from the 1950s which was in the dinky range. However, it is most significant as one of the UK's largest integrated service providers which has grown on the back of public sector outsourcing in housing and property management. It is expected to go into administration with the possible loss of up to 10,000 jobs with all the consequences for families and many social housing providers and councils will lose services. A few companies are sitting on the sidelines hoping to take on some of the contracts but they may have to renegotiate prices. This will further erode the ability of the public sector to maintain the quality of services or lead to further public sector price inflation.


No doubt the media will continue to concentrate on Andy Coulson as the big news story but does anyone really believe that an editor of the News of the World wouldn't encourage phone tapping? Connaught is the bigger and more significant story. Ask the citizens of Norwich who are heavily dependent on Connaught to provide many of their services. One of the results of New Labour has been a massive shift towards outsourcing, including the type of contracts carried out by Connaught and a huge tranche of PPP for hospitals, schools and transport projects. They changed the landscape of service contracting in a way that Mrs Thatcher tried but failed to achieve. 

So if we have this scale of collapse as the coalition begins to trek through the foothills of public expenditure cuts what will happen after their Spending Review begins to bite? The Chief Constables were the first to the barricades with their defence: 'We will take out civilians who do the administrative and technical jobs and replace them with police officers whom we cannot make redundant. This will reduce the number of police on the beat and, ergo, crime will rise again' said one of their number last week without understanding the irony of paying someone twice as much to do a job less efficiently whilst at the same time reducing the front line service. Watch out for the rest of the public services, starting with the armed forces, to pile in with similar tales of the expected.

I remember that Connaught gave up on motor racing with the advent of rear engines, it is a message for the coalition, that trying to drive savings by frontline savings is not going to be a winner.

Wedding Day

Giving your daughter away is a strange phrase in the 21st century and this photo explains why it is not an easy thing to do.

Princesses all

The weather held for Eva and Simon's wedding and guests from far and wide enjoyed a short, good humoured and wise service from Mrs Cloggie, the minister, at the Trossachs church in its idyllic surroundings. Then we had a treasure hunt to find the reception 20 miles away at Duntreath Castle, where Arthur piped us in from the battlements of the tower. Duntreath provided a superb setting for the reception and ceilidh. The reception was in the grounds and prosecco lubricated the occasion as friends from Denmark, Germany, Italy and Ireland mingled with folk from all corners of the UK. The children thought they were in a fairy tale and the gardens were magnificent in their late summer plumage.

We ate the best of Scottish produce prepared by an exceptional local chef, Jane Wilson. This included smoked salmon, halibut, lamb and a strawberry meringue wedding cake. This was followed by Lancashire, Scottish and Yorkshire cheeses, real ale from a microbrewery in Simon's home village, more wine and a collection of malt whisky. Sky lanterns were assembled and climbed swiftly and twinkled brightly against the black sky as they drifted northwards. The dancing resumed with an effervescent ceilidh band and a full dance floor before exhaustion, carriages and auld lang syne converged at midnight.

It appears to have been a great success with messages pouring in from all points staggered at the stunning locations and the guest easy atmosphere that seemed to percolate throughout the day and lift the spirits of all.

Granny

Sky Lanterns rise from the terrace

Wedding day minus one

Trossachs kirk from across the Loch

Duntreath Castle and gardens

Gate House and gardens

Marquee ready, Dumgoyne hill looks on

Looking north

After a few early jobs and errands which meant passing the church again, we (well they) spent most of the afternoon decorating the marquee and setting table placements.  The grounds and setting were stupendous and on days like this I cannot think of anywhere that wears its landscape and gardens so well.  The weather forecasts are veering around a bit but it seems that a fine day and some sunshine are highly likely for tomorrow.  After checking the sound system and drinks I returned home, flower arrangements are not my forte and I need to go to Edinburgh airport shortly to collect our eldest daughter.  The only sad note is that Granny is too fragile to attend the reception but is determined to make the church after she finishes the Saturday prize crossword.

Wedding Weather

Trossachs Church

Ben A'an

Ben A'an and Loch Katrine

Rowan Tree in Kirk grounds

It's wedding time this weekend with our second daughter getting married.  As well as all the usual organisational rituals, we decided to redo the guest bedroom, the downstair's bathroom and porch in time for the wedding.  Surprisingly I managed to complete the bedroom last week but the tiler and plumber are going to the wire on the bathroom, although we got the door back on today and the porch is to be tiled and finished tomorrow.  I think the paint will have to wait until next week.  If only weddings were VAT free under the coalition family policies we could have included the work as essential wedding preparation.  But, as we know, say wedding and there is an additional premium of 50% on the price anyway.  One of the more interesting suggestions as we sat outside this evening and watched the butterflies graze on the cosmos was to catch some and release them at the wedding but Wayne Rooney did that so we'll not bother.

The best news is that we are still basking in an Indian summer.  We are breakfasting and lunching outside every day and  hoping it holds for Saturday.  The service will be in the Trossachs church which is gloriously located overlooking a loch and surrounded by mountains.  My task today was to take Gregor to the church to show him his usher duties but he had already spent 4 hours walking in the hills.  We met at the foot of Ben Venue and then climbed Ben A'an which overlooks the church so that he could get an eagle's eye view of the church.  We went to the church as well afterwards to look at the parking and decide where the ushers should stand - by the south facing vestibule looking up to Ben A'an seemed the best place. Job done.