Gertsamtkunstwerk

How NOT to do PR

A couple of weeks ago I received an email from a PR Agency entitled Barbicanʼs Great Performers Season – Blogger exclusive event.

I'm normally very sceptical of anything free, and know full well that there are plenty of people in PR, marketing etc who have sussed out that if they flatter bloggers enough they can use them to promote events and products. The email did make me realise that I haven't addressed my booking needs for the Barbican yet this season, (other than Otello in December).

I decided to accept the invite; at the time I had no other engagements or commitments today, and I thought, well, if I get to meet some other bloggers, it will be worthwhile. Anyway, it's for a product I already endorse and, I suppose, promote.

The event was access to the rehearsal of Dido & Aeneas being performed twice this evening by Les Arts Florissants. I was instructed to report to the advance ticket desk and was given the name of a contact (who I now know is in marketing at the Barbican).

I reported to the advance ticket office but this was news to the man staffing it. He directed me to reception and the woman there was incredibly helpful with a clear desire to resolve problems. She rang around and rang around, and I even spoke to someone or other on the phone.

The name I had been given wasn't answering her phone (probably not even in the building) and it was complete news to the duty house manager. The woman on reception advised me to go in anyway, and if challenged, just explain the situation.

I thought that it would be quite good fun to blag my way in, even though I was actually feeling quite a lot of anger (and doing remarkably well to remain outwardly calm and polite).

There was still time remaining so I went out beside the lake for a cigarette, and I thought, no, I am not going to have my entire day ruined by the unprofessionalism of some PR person (I had sort of promised to go canvassing this morning but chickened out when I remembered I had this to go). And actually, after the ROH's rather dismal performance of Dido and Aeneas, I'm not even sure now I particularly like the opera.

I just thought I would write this because I feel angry and humiliated by being played for a fool by some inept bimbo. I was probably a fool even to accept the invite, knowing full well that there is no such thing as an obligation-free giveaway.

I don't like being beholden to anyone.  When I was a councillor, the law required all conflicts of interest to be declared, and with a few logical exceptions*, having a conflict of interest meant that we couldn't vote on the relevant matter. As a member of a chartered professional institute I abide by the code of ethics that states that any gifts or treats must be declared, and that a conflict of interest means that one should step away from the assignment.

I wish to apply the same ethical standards to any critical writing that appears on this blog. It is not saying that judgement is automatically clouded by receiving giveaways, but that the readers have a right to know if the writer is independent.

 I don't accept any 'write-a-review for free tickets' deal, because I then don't have to live in fear in endangering the cosy relationship by writing honestly. I have in the past, wrongly,  accepted free 'plus one' tickets.

I now realise it this is unethical to accept giveaways for performances that are sold out, especially when my role was simply one of ligging greedily. Either the reviewer is there to work and could arguably justify a free ticket, but it's not normal to bring one's friends to work. Or else, they are there for a night out with a friend, in which case they should buy their own ticket. This is different from circumstances where promoters offer free tickets or goodies in competitions that are open to anyone and is diametrically different from advertised offers for heavily discounted tickets (often resulting from poor sales).

I have started adding a footnote to my performance reviews that state that I bought the ticket myself. There is a widespread erroneous assumption on the internet that anyone who regularly writes performance reviews needs to have free tickets to do so.

For example, on one newsgroup, someone wrote that the role of the newspaper critic is diminishing with the spread of newsgroups, blogs and bulletin boards - the average fan does not need to rely solely on the mainstream media to find opinions and reflections on the performances. Someone replied that that isn't true - internet reviewers have to prove their capability to the opera house before they get tickets. Which was a classic case of missing the point entirely. (The point being that anyone who attends a performance has an opinion; self-publishing on the internet has removed the logistical and cost barriers to disseminating that opinion).

I am not aware of any publication, whether mainstream media or  web-based fanzines that declare that they have received free tickets for their reviewer (and, often,  a plus one). I think they should, because they are not independent, even though I assume that many of their contributors have the intellectual rigour and moral integrity not to let their freebies cloud their judgement.

I just one to make it absolutely clear that I run this blog and the lifestyle that makes it possible at my own expense (admittedly, I'm really bad at saying 'it's my round') except for an occasional payment from Google ads or Amazon, which combined don't meet my blog-hosting costs.

* such as being a resident and council tax payer of the Borough (!); or being employed by a public body that worked in partnership with the council

Why blog or Twitter?

I am not intending to make this post very profound because the answer isn't very profound and can best me summarised as 'why not?'.

It was not inspired by Humphreys' Grumpy Old Man hissy fit on Today although that has influenced my decision to post now rather than some time in the indeterminate future.

The simple answer is that it's fun and entertaining. Not particularly in any profound way.

I would have thought that Humphreys, who has made his living from TV and radio, albeit mostly (exclusively?) the serious side, should be able to understand the purpose of media as entertainment. Although, I have noticed that journalists hate the idea of amateurs doing what they do, but for free.

Just about every profession and occupation is mirrored by a large and enthusiastic band of amateurs, so I really don't see what sets journalists apart from footballers and singers, decorators and drivers, book-keepers and psychologists. Especially considering that writing is one of the few skills that is taught to everybody, with barely any exceptions, from an early age, and the only skill that a large number of people are expected to master before adulthood.

I do think it's a bit silly when pompous fools claim with disdain that 'social networking' is no substitute for face-to-face contact or that those who indulge should 'get a life'.

Social networking is really beneficial to people who are wholly or partly housebound - the ill and disabled, those with childcare responsibilities, those whose paid work is largely homebased. It's also a great way to connect with people with shared interests. Sometimes you can make a more lasting emotional connection, too, but there are many people who like to indulge in a chat about a specific topic without compromising their privacy.

I happen to be writing this while watching on a Prom on the TV. It's nice to be able to read what other people are thinking about the same performance, as it happens, or, for ones I have attended, to contribute my impressions to the discussion. It would be pretty stupid to walk down to my local pub after the broadcast and try to engage random strangers and casual acquaintances in a discussion about something they haven't seen.

Actually, I had forgotten it was on until I read some Tweets, and as a result, I managed to catch a decent performance of Brahms's First Symphony, which I really rather like.

I think sometimes people who don't blog or use social networking websites think that those of us who do do so as a replacement activity. To some extent, it is.

Sometimes it just helps with procrastination - who hasn't watched TV instead of doing the housework or cleaned the kitchen floor rather than finish that audit report?  But I have never known anyone say "I can't go out tonight because I've got to catch up with blogs" whereas loads of people  cancel nights out for TV programmes, even now when they could record them (because that doesn't work for live events, especially sport).

I rarely Twitter as an alternative to doing something of interest. I often send messages while I am on a short bus journey and can't be bothered to read. Or when I'm taking a short cigarette break, at work or on a bike ride.  Or in an interval of a concert or opera when I haven't managed to meet up with any of the numerous  fellow opera-lovers I have become acquainted with via the internet.

I have found that the casual conversations on Twitter/Facebook often reflect closely the conversations one has with workmates. Short sound bites about holidays or days out; post mortems into football; moans about the weather; discussions on using fresh garden and wild produce.

Why do we have these conversations at work - surely it should all be about the Assurance Framework and Esteemed Employer's Public Service Agreements? But we do, and I expect that most sane workplaces in the land do, so I don't see any great difference with having them with other people (who are no more randomly selected than one's colleagues).

I suppose the mystery to people is that it happens on the internet. I guess they are still in the frame of mind that the internet is a novel means of communication which isn't sufficiently well established.

There was a time when large numbers of people used to say "I don't see the point of mobile phones - I will call someone at their home." I know several people who don't have mobiles, but they choose not to (or, rather have not chosen to) rather than questioning the very concept.

I used to be a bit resistant to texts, and even these days, I probably text less than most women my age. Decades ago people took time to adjust to the existence of telephones and radio, or an aeroplane flying overhead was a noteworthy event. I accept that as we get older we are more resistant to change - or more cynical about innovation for innovation's sake.

I don't think that Twitter is here to stay,and I think that ultimately Facebook is doomed. They currently rule supreme because they are, to all intents and purposes, monopoly suppliers.

General websites and email are more stable because they are de-centralised and have diverse suppliers. When sending an email it really doesn't matter who the recipient's internet provider is; this site happens to have hosting and content management provided by Typepad, but you can still read it if you have a Google/blogspot provided blog or no blog at all, and you can read it without signing up to anything or me knowing.

Ultimately, it's really no big deal. Up and down the land, people watch television or take part in creative and sporting hobbies that mix entertainment with some sort of striving for improvement. I don't see much difference between them and social networking.

I know there are people who use the internet because they lack the social skills to form relationships otherwise, but anybody who has ever been in a local community or hobby group will have encountered those who get involved because they are lonely and want to meet people, or simply want to meet people with shared interests. It's really no big deal. 

I think the mistake Humphreys and his sort make is that they concentrate on the medium, and ignore the fact that is a basic human instinct to reach out to others. I would agree that there are a lot of idiots who use Twitter, but you don't have to engage with them any more than you're obliged to engage with the idiots you overhear on the bus.

On receiving hatemail

Many readers will be familiar with Premiere Opera, purveyor of Pirate recordings.

This is one of those blog posts of no interest to those who don't know the protagonists. Consider that a warning!

I have received two emails from their 'respected' 'decent' owner in the last couple of days.

The first:

it's your fault

One reason I now like to continue posting my opinions of Alvarez is because of what you are writing to others about me behind my back. You are both nasty and totally insulting.

 

At least what I write can be read by everyone. What you do is behind the back, and a dirty, filthy way of stabbing people in the back.

 

If you are stupid enough to answer this, I shall delete it unread. You are less than unimportant, and a raving lunatic. Now post this on your goddamn blog and shove it.

When he posted yet another email on Opera-L slagging off Marcelo Alvarez, I chose to publish it with the comment:

Another little missive from Honest Ed

(note to moderators: if you feel this is reason to put me on moderation or ban me from Opera-L, so be it)

Naturally, I expected him to respond; I'm not unreasonable. He responded on list this way:

"I am neither senile, unmusical, or a sicko. I think you just described yourself perfectly."

This is what I wrote to the lovely Miss Geraldine, using her words exactly to describe me in her blogs read by others. I don't know how many others, but a decent number of others. She wrote this about me behind my back. Whatever I wrote about Alvarez, which prompted her outburst, was written to the open list, for all to read. After I was forwarded what she had written about me, I fired off my private e-mail to her. Obviously, it is private no more.

The lovely Miss Geraldine also has Domingo blogs, and hates the fact that I am not a fan of Domingo, nor did I like Alvarez, her current favorite, as Manrico in Trovatore. Because of this, she wrote that I was a senile, unmusical sicko, obsessed with Alvarez.

Now everything is public, and she chose to attack me at this time, which speaks volumes for her moral ethics.

I will and have tried not to be nasty publically, but this champion blogger had written horribly nasty things about me and others in her little "harmless" blogs. That is what caused my response to her. Have fun, Geraldine. That's what we are all here for. Ed

and sent me the following delightful message:

You don't deserve to be removed from the list. The world will do.

 

Ed

As he has chosen to associate himself with the remarks I made, I shall link back to them.

I call him 'Honest Ed' because I pointed out several years ago that he was, in effect, stealing from his 'dear friend' Rolando Villazón by continuing to sell a pirate version of the Amsterdam Don Carlo, despite there being a professional commercial version available, with proceeds going, I suppose, to Amsterdam Opera and, I guess, indirectly to the artists.

He emailed me to say that Rolando had asked him to remove this from his site. He told me he had done so. It doesn't take much of a Google to find this, the Vienna L'Elisir, the Salzburg Traviata and something which appears to be the 2006 World Cup Waldbuhne concert (all available commercially) still on his site. Numerous other recordings exist, usually processing of TV etc broadcasts, which he gets money for even after the commercial DVD has been released. So, he lies about the way he steals from his 'friends'.

I have now had another response from him, and my two posts on Opera-L are exhausted.

This response is:

Strange how you totally ignore and don't post exactly what horrible things you wrote about me, publicly, that prompted my PRIVATE e-mail to you.. You certainly don't believe in being the least bit fair, do you? Your behavior is horrific. You prompted this entire exchange by what you wrote about me on your blog(s)? Nasty is as nasty does. I am not worried, since you won't prevail. Your knowledge of opera would fit on the head of the proverbial pin, with lots of room left over.

 
I have received supportive emails from other people, for which I am very grateful.

This all started months ago when I wrote:

Two years ago? Beczala has been around a lot longer than that. I first  heard him, late in his career, not long after I joined rmo. And that really seems like a lifetime ago. I can't see what all the fuss is  about. I wouldn't avoid him in anything but he's not exactly a star  attraction.

to which Rosen wrote:

You first heard Beczala "late in his career???" What does that mean?
Is his career near its end? How old is Beczala and how old is
Alvarez?

and

When you write that you saw Beczala "late is his career" the clear inference is that his career doesn't have long to go and is winding down.

To which I wrote:

It wasn't the implication; if that's how it read to you, then I'm sorry. Maybe it was clumsily worded.  But it's no excuse to launch yet another baseless attack on Marcelo Alvarez.

(there was considerable more wordiness going on on both sides).

I am utterly stumped as to why Ed is continuing to bracket me with Marcelo Alvarez. I still don't know why he introduced Marcelo into the conversation; I can only assume it was because of some grudge or resentment.

I feel bad that somehow I am the reason for nasty attacks on Marcelo Alvarez, a fine singer and a decent human being. I do admire Marcelo tremendously, but I haven't seen him for over two years: I did book to see him in Carmen last year, but for boring complicated and personal reasons I was unable to go; he's not appearing in London this season. So I am perplexed why he is being linked to me in this way.

But he has done nothing to deserve the ad hominem attacks on him, just because I have seen through the crap of a thief and liar. I don't feel upset that I am being attacked, but I am sorry that this is reflecting on Marcelo, a decent, honourable and honest man.

Way back then, I wrote on rmo:

I reserve the right to reproduce on here or on Opera-L as appropriate any unsolicited emails sent to me by Rosen, especially the ones where he declares he will delete the response.

I have claimed that right.

This is the man who said:

I repeat. You know nothing about singing and voices.

I replied:

Has it ever occurred to you that opera consists of a little bit more than singing and voices? I doubt it!

And he replied, splendidly, in my opinion!

Yes, this has occured to me, and I dismissed it. It has everything to do with singing and voices. Without these, it would be dramatic acting. It has nothing to do with groupie mentality and blogs. These are hero-worship antics, and the entire world of opera was much better off without them.

(without orchestra, plot, dramaturgy, scenery, costumes and lighting it would be an a capella song recital. In my opinion).

And the real genesis of this was my email to him saying:

Please remove me from your bulk mailing list.

I have actually met this person, in person. Let's just say it wasn't the most enjoyable 'off the internet' encounter.

Technology is bad and scary

I was reading an article in last week's New Statesman Don’t sell me your dream: Far from liberating us, technology isolates us and makes us stupid.

It is a prime example of writing (and getting paid for) nonsense. Some small points that ring true - how Blackberries are just a way for employers to keep control over employees' free time - but are misused to 'prove' a greater fallacy.

He says

It is also important to remember that technology is not altruistic. Facebook and MySpace are ad sales scams. They get free content and demographic data from their members, then sell it to advertisers.

The New Statesman (funded mainly by Geoffrey Robinson - until last month ) is a bad example, but, in general,  the paper-based Press has depended on advertising for centuries.

I used to read Cosmopolitan regularly. There were numerous glossy adverts for all sorts of 'lifestyle' and fashion products, sitting alongside articles extolling the virtues and the route to happiness via the purchase of totally unrelated lifestyle and fashion 'must-haves'. I am not the greatest fan of capitalism, but as a democratic socialist, I can see advantages as well as disadvantages in the capitalist market. The disadvantages are how the advertising and acquisitive culture makes us stupid and isolates us from emotions and experiences that have little or no monetary value.

He slags off Wikipedia as being inferior to getting on one's bike and going to the library to get reference books. He clearly doesn't know that Wikipedia has been found to be as reliable as the Encyclopaedia Britannia. He obviously doesn't understand the difficulties of being a teenager and cycling to Manchester Central Library on a cold wet windy winter's school night on the off-chance of being able to get a reference book that isn't available in Trafford libraries but would help with that history essay, in the mid-1980s.

I am a massive fan of web-based technology. Since I took up blogging, I have transformed the way I take photos. I got a digital camera in 2001 but initially used it as I had used film camera - for snapshots of sights and people. Inspiration by other bloggers changed how I saw the art of photography. More importantly, I was inspired to take days out for the ostensible purpose of blogging and photography. The pleasure of those days out, inspired by technology, have been about the sensual and physical connection with place and - often - nature, and the companionship of my partner.

I never went to the Royal Opera House until they introduced online booking (although there is little direct cause and effect). I had swallowed the myth that tickets are impossible to get and extortionately expensive. I still meet older people who believe it will be impossible to get tickets for Plácido at the ROH in either Tamerlano or Simon Boccanegra next season. Extremely difficult, I think, to obtain one of the approximately 10,000  available. But not impossible. And made simpler by technology, specifically the world wide web.

I get to download recordings of operas and concerts broadcast on radio and TV in other countries, (or recorded in-house!) including some dating from before I was born. Perhaps this New Statesman 'journalist' would dismiss my interest in music (irrespective of taste and genre) as another pointless addiction to technology. But such a dismissal would make the article even less relevant, and isn't implied in it, anyway.

It is by 'meeting' people on the internet with shared interests (and often, meeting them in 'Real Life') that I have been emboldened to travel abroad for operas. But not just for operas. Take the forthcoming trip to Paris. The main reason for going is for Cyrano de Bergerac. But we are going for several days and intend to do some intensive sight-seeing. Despite, or perhaps because of Paris's proximity, I'm not sure I would ever have got round to organising a city break there. Opera tickets, train tickets, and hotel were all researched and booked on line, by electronic transfer of funds. All could have been done by post, but I doubt that I would have taken the initiative without the www.

One of the things I like about Facebook is that I have daily communication with members of mine and Jimmy's extended families, with slight acquaintances and old friends, government ministers and opera singers.  A Luddite would say that I should make more effort to keep up with them in Real Life (not the ministers and singers!). And that is undoubtedly true. But geographical and lifestyle separation makes this impractical. I like the age and generation mix; my Facebook Friends range from ten years old (unofficially - having sneaked in under her Mum's - my sister's - ID) to someone I think is 61 (his birthday is 29 February; if he was 57 that would make him the twin of someone else, such a coincidence would surely have been remarked upon in 1994 or 1998).

I think with just about anything one can think of - food, exercise, football, politics, opera, work, leisure, shopping, sex, DIY, religion, alcohol - social media are best in moderation. It's almost certainly unhealthy to define one's existence by just one of those things, and very stupid to see them as the ultimate panacea.

Daily, I see acquaintances in, outside or heading for the same old same old pub where they spend their entire leisure time, rarely venturing to neighbouring pubs, let alone far away Brixton, Streatham and Clapham town centres. If that's how they want to spend their time, fine, by I believe my life is infinitely richer because of my above-average internet use than it would be if my life revolved around my local.

I am certain I shall see more people I know in Paris than if I wandered into any local pub except those on my road. Stupid? Isolated? I think otherwise.

My indifference to politics, news, current affairs and world events

This is one I cannot fathom out in respect to my blogging. There is always a lot going on, and I am rarely short of an opinion.

But you wouldn't know it on this blog. There are various reasons, in addition to lack of time, writer's block etc that mean I don't write down my opinions here. One is connected to work. A lot of things are connected to work, however indirectly - and sometimes directly.

Supposing I worked for the Department of Health, I would be hesitant to write about the current outbreak of swine 'flu hysteria. Not being an expert in epidemiology or virology, my talents lie in my ability to assimilate digest and redact information. Obviously, if I am doing this about, say, Manchester United, no one expects me to have any special insights. What I write might actually be total rubbish, factually incorrect and full of observer's bias. You can take it or leave it.

If I were to be a DoH employee and write about swine flu, there are three dangers. One is that someone, maybe with malign intent, takes what I write and quotes it as coming from a DoH employee. That can serve only to mislead.

The second danger is you. You are too smart to really believe that the out-of-hours ramblings of an employee with no specialist knowledge actually knows what they're talking about. But, nevertheless, if something I say chimes with you, or coincides with what someone else (say an operational healthcare professional) writes, you might subconsciously accept it. Not as 'gospel truth' but as one of the pieces of the evidence jigsaw that helps you to make up your mind.

The third danger is Esteemed Employer. Most employers of any size have guidelines about what employees can say about their workplace in public. The sensible ones will know that there is a great deal to be said about the peripheries and sidebars of the workplace which aren't specific to that employer, could be equally applicable to any sizeable organisation, and they will take a relaxed view of it.

But when one starts opining about core business, it becomes a lot more difficult. There is a question of professional integrity. To continue the swine 'flu analogy, I could say 'whoever came up with that strategy is cuckoo'. Then six months down the line, I could be tasked with reviewing the arrangements. Why on earth should they welcome me?

It is also difficult to separate what one knows from the public domain from what one knows from privileged access to confidential papers. Often, insider knowledge allows one to join the dots of the public information, or realise that it has been over-simplified, is hopelessly optimistic, or is dependent upon smashing an obstructionist  culture.

So, I avoid any discussion on here of areas that overlap with my professional responsibilities.

In respect of party political matters, I have always had an intense dislike for the chatter of 'Westminster village'. I am uninterested in who is tabbing who in the back, or who is screwing who. 'Political' blogs become obsessed by the ins-and-outs, the gossip, and the internecine navel gazing. I never went into politics for those matters. I am far more interested in - passionate about - how we can work collectively, with inspired and inspiring leadership, for the betterment of society and thus all of us.

But that isn't something that lends itself to blogging. Blogging is about the instant reaction, the microscopic examination of each glacial creep.

In reality, real change takes time, and often involves false moves, one step back even as we take one step forward. This is why I don't read daily newspapers nor do I watch rolling news on the TV. I get my breaking news from the BBC website, occasionally going to on-line newspapers for further detail.

I get my weekly in-depth information from the New Statesman. Often flawed but nevertheless indispensable. If I had more time I would also read the Spectator albeit with gritted teeth.

I detest increasingly the daily newspapers and their comments features. I feel that increasingly their so-called journalists write pieces deliberately to provoke extreme reactions and ensuing comments, rather than take the time to research the background to a piece from several independent sources. They measure their success in the number of comments they receive, boasting that comment is free but forgetting that facts are sacred.

I don't want to wade through the morass of bleatings from those with too much time on their hands, axes to grind and general misinformation based on ignorance, to find the occasional thoughtful contribution from someone who knows what they're talking about and can add something, often from a different angle.

I consider it to be bad manners on the part of these so-called editors. They used to mediate public ocntributions; often a newspaper's letters page was the most interesting reading. Now they expect me to do their selcting and editing for them. Guess what, I just can't be bothered.

Dear Diary

I forgot to blog! How did that happen?

Simple, really. Various explanations.

Once upon a time, when I was really quite ill, I didn't go out very much. When I was at home (most of the time) when I was sleeping, I spent a lot of time in front of the PC.

So much of that has changed. I do go out a lot more now. And when I'm in, I'm far more likely to be doing something active. For example, I have recently taken up baking again, something I find intrinsically enjoyable, and not merely through satisfaction with the end result (compare with ironing and washing up).

And yet, when I do go out, there is relatively little to report. There is a limit to the number of original posts that one can write about a cycle ride down to Tooting Common or Brockwell Park. There is a danger that, in order to keep the content original, I am likely to moan about the solipsistic behaviour of self-centred individuals - generally those who fail to keep their mutts or brats under control, or dangerous drivers (either school-run Mums or arsehole twunts in vans)  - that maybe occupy five minutes of the trip, rather than:

• sheer exhilaration of going down hill;
• wow I've got some speed up there;
• that flower's lovely;
• woo, the bump bump of careering over tree roots;
• that puddle never dries up whatever the weather;
• really, Jimmy, there is no need to chat up every woman over 70; 
• that small child is so cute toddling along - whoops he's fallen;
• do they really expect to catch fish in that stagnant pond?;
• oh, look, the swan's showing off again;
• the coffee here (Brockwell Park) tastes like dishwater and isn't even hot;
• strange how two coffees and an egg and chips here (Tooting Common) costs only 30p more than two coffees in Brockwell Park. And the coffee tastes good, too;
• I'm just experimenting using different functions on the camera - they won't be great photos;

that take up the remaining two hours or so.

And the other reason is Twitter. I remember now why I abandoned twitter after about six months of using it regularly. It does tend to steal one's blogging material.

I suppose there are various ways of looking at that. One is to say: Twitter is pants, and abandon it again. Another is to try and recreate the passing thought that inspires a <141 character muse and turn it into something longer.

The third option is to go with the flow while simultaneously re-examining my modus blogerandi. I am by nature a hoarder and a bit of an archivist. It sort of goes against my grain to have these fleeting pronouncements and even while acknowledging that they are preserved, for now, on some giant server, they are nevertheless transitory.

Yet why should the electronic world be any different from the physical world. For longer than I can remember I have had multiple conversations with numerous people. Rarely, outside of work, have I made a formal record of the conversation. Occasionally I have made a written note for future reference. Sometimes I have made a mental note. Frequently, I have allowed the content to enter my memory for further use. But I would guess that the overwhelming  majority of the words I have uttered and the words I have heard are gone for ever.

And not only does that not matter, it is actually a good thing. The relationships matter more than the words. In any relationship, with a lover, a friend, a family member, a casual acquaintance, a whole lot of bullshit is uttered. Many platitudes and empty words. Harsh words and downright disagreement. What she said what he said are totally irrelevant. They are merely tools in how we operate as social animals.

(But I have just discovered something I searched for in vain a month or so ago - a daily dump of my twitterings. The joy for you will be unconfined!)

A one woman effort to change the internet

Trouble is, once I start meddling, I can't stop...

I have been monitoring the return of blogrolling. It is not yet working to my satisfaction. From your point of view, the worst aspect is that the blogs are still sorted alphabetically (with extra lists down the bottom for ones that were added after the Great Fallover), rather than by the most recently updated. From my point of view the worst aspect is that it doesn't 'remember me'. Even though I have an idiosyncratic PC set-up, all other sites that should (ie not online banking) do remember me, except MySpace, which I use even less than my previous levels of seldom.

I have decided to ditch Bloglines and have switched to Google Reader. I feel a bit bad about this, it's like switching from OpenSource to Microsoft or from an mp3 player that works to an ipoo, but I was looking for better functionality and I think I might have achieved it. I was sicking of Bloglines too frequent database errors, and the load time. What appeals most about the Google Reader is that I can list all unread items by date order, without having to decide which blog to read first. I suspect this will be even better when again build up a backblog.

I have decided to start again with Twitter; this enables me also to update my Facebook status, and have some passing record on here of the banality that isn't fit for a blog entry in itself.

I am still ambivalent about Facebook. I can see that it has benefits over old-fashioned email and telephone calls. I have Friends who include family members from both my and Jimmy's families. I don't need electronic communication to keep in touch with them; on the other hand it's a nice way to keep the wheels turning over in between seeing them (which is too frequently at funerals and not enough at other events).

With relations and with friends from the past it's a nice way to see the photos of children and holidays that they wouldn't necessarily want to put on the open www yet would feel a bit diffident about imposing on one at said social gatherings. It's now up to me to make something more concrete of the getting back in touch with people I have been neglecting since I was ill.

But I'm not interested in throwing things at people, or being invited to join 'campaigning' groups that are no more than badges. And I might have to unsubscribe from one group because of the volume of emails that John Prescott and Alastair Campbell are sending me...in fact, the thought of Alastair Campbell embracing Facebook is frightening. I see there is a strange omission in his friend's list alphabetically between Blades and Blake.

With the demise of co.mments, I had to find a replacement and I think that commentful is good enough. It isn't as good (for me) than co.mments, but it's better to have an adequate working service than a good but defunct service. Where possible I will subscribe to rss feeds for comments, but they aren't widespread (I could introduce it on this blog but that would mean creating an 'advanced template' and I don't feel like it). What I have to do is remember is that when someone has written an interesting blogpost, and I read it, and don't comment, I should nevertheless put it on my comments watchlist because someone else might come along later and add something of worth.

I have been puzzling over my linklog since the demise of Magnolia. I tried delicious, like I used to, but that simply wasn't making auto blog postings. I did get some help from Typepad (they've changed the API url but haven't bothered to update the Knowledge base...). As Diigo seems to work, I think I shall go with that. Even though it breaks the colour scheme on sidebar and even though the title auto blog posts cannot be changed and states the date in non-standard form.

Finally, several weeks ago I installed a translator on the blog, in recognition of the multinational flvour of the readership. Of course, all those non-Anglophone readers read English better than I read any foreign language. What I would welcome is more comments, irrespective of language. I suppose I would prefer them in Laitn script in the main European languages (French, German and Spanish, plus Italian which I can read) but if the language crops up in the translator, it can be used - but please, for less known languages, please indicate what it is!

Resurrecting Twitter

I was a very early adopter of Twitter. 8th December 2006

Waiting for the gas man, not listening to Radio 4 which is on in the background

Going back through my past Twits, I have realised I was onto something. On May 21st I gave out Financial advice. You are really going to kick yourself for not taking it... it's currently at 3530.73. Oh my god, suppose, like, that was a premonition, like I knew something was going to happen!

Even after the initial novelty wore off, I kept it going for quite a long time, then I drifted away. In some ways I despise Twitter because of its ubiquity, because too many tossers in the mainstream media seem to think that it matters. Its attraction to me was always the sheer and utter banality of trying to comment on one's life in short bursts of 140 characters.

One of the things that put me off is that it isn't accessible from work. I don't mind updating my twits from my mobile, but I don't really want to receive, or pay for, numerous txts from fellow twits. So I guess I felt a bit embarrassed to be imposing my banality on others whilst following their banality only intermittently.

But I have decided, an end to embarrassment and a rebirth of banality. You can follow me at Twitter itself or check out my sidebar , which should contain my last five Twits. As a hint, there may be times in the future when my readers might appreciate a short update on what I'm doing when I'm far away from my PC, perhaps a bit like the short and banal blogposts I emailed from the Palau des Artes in Valencia

On this day...

I have just noticed that Gordon - one man blogs - has an automagic 'On this Day' generator. I want. I think.

Although doing it manually allows me to select the lasting from the more ephemeral

My blogroll...

As part of my migration to this blog from the old defunct one, I decided, finally to use blogrolling.com to manage my blogroll.

I have about 300-400 blogs on my blogroll. Many of these do not update very frequently, others are basically dead (but one never knows, they may resurrect one day...).

I decided to list just fifty blogs on my sidebar. The intention was not to show any favouritism. Some of them are general blogs; some are subject specific. Some are better than others. Some are better at reflecting a particular but changing mood of mine. The blogroll was never intended to reflect any of those factors. It was simply supposed to be the most recently updated fifty. The way to get to the top of the list was to publish. And then watch yourself slip down as others update, too.

I don't use my blogroll as a reading aid - I use bloglines, which aggregates RSS feeds, so I am often reading your blog without even clicking on your site. I am not clicking on your site on the offchance you have updated.

I intended to have my blogroll as a courtesy to and advertising of the other blogs I read fairly regularly.

I noticed several weeks ago that the list was never refreshing or updating, and I made a mental note to get round to fixing it 'sometime'. And it was never a priority. I have now got round to trying to fix it only to find that blogrolling.com has been up on bricks for several weeks, and seems to have had a pretty catastrophic collapse. I don't see it being up and running at least for several weeks yet.

Too Much Time on their Hands

Numerous times have I started a rant about the idiocy, illiteracy and illogicality of contributors to BBC's Have Your Say. And each time I have deleted the post because it contains a conspiracy theory that the editors refuse to publish any comment that contains either a hint of good sense or a more-or-less correct sentence, spelling and grammatically. And if I propound that theory, it will make me look as desperate and loathsome as the commenters that do get published.

What depresses me is that people have these solutions they assert forcefully as bound to succeed, yet they clearly don't have the native intelligence even to consider whether there might be flaws let alone what the flaws might be.

Anyway there is a blog devoted to collecting and commenting upon the mindless blithering of idiots who actually believe that their ignorance is worth something.

spEak You’re bRanes.

I had a dream (last night...)

I was at a speed-dating evening and so was Adrian Sevitz.

We were segregated by age range, so I, being a forty-something woman had to speed-date 20-something men...which makes so much sense...

I was on the Tube last week and I saw a number of 20-something men. Perfectly pleasant, I'm sure, probably with a good mix of positive personal qualities. Interesting, maybe. Demons in bed, even. I looked at them and thought 'you might be nice guys but you're so unattractive'. It's not just the sideburns and the clothes that look like they've slept in them - I believe that's currently fashionable with the young set - it's the fact that they're so young, so lacking in self-confidence (the one that comes from within), and so anxious. They're simply not attractive.

Adrian was in a different group, a different Speed-Date Circuit, the one where thirty-something men get to speed date thirty-something women.

I spread the word round that he was a llama farmer from Peru. Not in order to stymie his chances, but because I honestly believed he was, and I thought it would help him if people knew the truth.

But there was a bee buzzing outside my bedroom window which woke me up. Only slowly, so I thought I was still in the speed-dating and I could actually hear myself snoring, out of the front of my mouth*. Then I heard an alarm clock go off. It was coming form one of the houses at the back, who also had their bedroom window open. I looked at my clock, 5.45 am. I knew I had an hour and a half more in bed.

* how gross is that?

Uncivil Surfer

In response to a comment and an email received from different people, no I am not the Civil Serf.

How bad are things and how diversified/incoherent is the UK blogosphere that I didn't even know about its existent until it hit the headlines this weekend, and was withdrawn from the 'net. A few years ago, all other 99 UK blogs would have alerted me to it, because I would have been reading them reading her.

I have to confess that I did contemplate being a mole in my government department. For the sake of anonymity, we shall call it the Department for Administrative Affairs (stolen from Yes (Prime) Minister and beloved of Training Course case studies).

The late lamented Sunday Correspondent did a feature on the Official Secrets Act that said that even revealing the content of the menu of the staff canteen is a breach. It has been revised since. I actually don't know what I'm allowed to discuss and what I'm not, but I'm a professional, and I work to the professional ethical standards of my institute and the Standards in public life.

There isn't a major employer around that doesn't expect confidentiality from its employees. I knew someone who had a friend in an accountancy firm who was working on papers on the train. Someone form the client company walked past, caught sight of the papers; that friend of a friend was sacked.

Back in the Golden Age of Blogging, we were all a bit naive and said things about our employer that we wouldn't say now. Back then we thought that only other bloggers read blogs, back when most of one's non-blogging friends thought Google was an unnecessary addition to a saturated 'market' where Dogpile and Ask Jeeves did just fine in searching - how could it be a market anywhere when there were no income streams?

I try to avoid blogging about work. I don't see any harm in discussing stuff like the menu, or that there was a fire alarm one day, or that I saw someone dressed in a way worth remarking. I might report conversations eg today a colleague commented that the French for paper-clip is trombone, which encapsulates the difference between the English and the French - the English go for utility and the French for style. It's not important that it was a colleague who remarked on this. It's hardly a big secret that the DAA has the occasional use of paper-clips/les trombones.

I don't discuss the nature or content of my actual projects at work. We don't even call them projects, we call them audits. I might occasionally say, I have a new project starting, or that my current project might involve a trip to some other part of the country. I don't think anybody knows what part of the DAA I audit, nor the type of audit I do, or my modus operandi, or even which of my colleagues is on my blogroll. Not even me...;-)

I try to avoid direct discussion of the policy responsibilities of the DAA, except where they directly or indirectly affect me as a citizen and taxpayer. Sometimes I will write about political stuff and I am conscious that the matter is more relevant to DAA work than a lay person would recognise. I've just deleted a hilarious passage where I give a fictional name to a Sec of State, thinly disguising their real identity in much the same way that one would say Gordie Broon to hide the fact that I was referring to the First Lord of the Treasury. Nah, not worth it.

I think some of the commenters in the Times article are idiots. Every employer with an ounce of nous, by explicit contract or implicit Code of Conduct, expects their employees to retain confidentiality. Government is no different.

One can try and blog anonymously, but people will find out if they want to (tip - never access your blog from work, in any way, shape or form). If you have a genuine grievance, there are usually appropriate channels for airing grievances and separate ones for whistleblowing.

I have never encountered a situation where I have considered whistle-blowing - although I can think of one where, in retrospect, I realise that I should have gone with my instinct when I suspected the then Tory government was covering up the extent and impact of a disease I can't name, but is known to send cattle demented. I figure that if the conventional whistle-blowing doesn't work, one approaches one's constituency MP, or the Chair of the relevant Select Committee or a carefully selected independent-minded MP. If none of these are interested, you have to conclude you are almost certainly barking up the wrong tree (or barking, or MP for...no, let's drop that string...), especially if neither the New Statesman nor the Daily Mail are interested either.

I'm sure it's fun to spill the beans from an insiders' perspective, but delusional to think that it is in anyway justified by conscience. At the end of the day, I'm a bean-counter, not a bean-spiller. I could be accused of complacency and selling-out, but I don't believe that to be true. Even with my New Labour matching underwear on, I can't say I totally support all the policies pursued by DAA, and in respect of the policies I endorse wholeheartedly, I may question their effectiveness, or the manner in which they are implemented. The last two are implied in my job description, and I can look myself in the mirror in the morning, albeit with a sidelong glance minus my spectacles.

I don't feel any sympathy for the Civil Serf. She knew what she was doing and she did it anyway. I imagine she must work in a fairly sensitive area - Private Office, or an area that gets an overview of Departmental responsibilities. Maybe she is an auditor. She is presumably not a clerk at Jobcentre Plus, because she wouldn't have access to insider gossip. I expect she'll get a book deal out of it, and we can all yawn along in boredom.

Sex blogging

A year or two ago, I had a phase of looking at a number of sex blogs. What that taught me quite quickly is that there is little less erotic than reading mediocre writing of someone else's erotica, real or imagined. I even set up a sexblog of my own which I soon abandoned, started again,and abandoned again. I soon learnt that reading or writing about sex cannot be done in isolation; it requires a level of pre-existing arousal, and ultimately it fails to satisfy that most basic of physical need.

One by one, and then more quickly, most of the sex blogs I had added to Bloglines were removed, until only one remained:

Pretty Dumb Things NSFW/NSFU-18s. She writes about sex, she writes about her personal experience of sex and related emotions. But there is an extra element there which is missing in most sex blogs. She sets sex in a wider context, makes it something that isn't just a messy private personal thing that happens in bed, but a vital part of modern civilised civic society:

nine relationships even worse than yours

on his royal highness's royal boxers

a pervert's guide to good grammar: part 3, subordination and coordination

3 examples of how sex-blogging can teach me things I didn't know that I didn't know!

Stats spike

On Thursday, I spent a total of almost five minutes of my life watching a video on YouTube and posting about it to rec.music.opera and to here. Just one of those link-and-move-on posts.

II didn't bank on it spending most of Friday as the number one hit on Google for P4ul P0tt$ the Phone seller from Port Talbot.

And, so, I got more visits to that one post than I normally get to the entire blog in half a week (or indeed a whole week, if you discount the hundreds of people who come here because a photo I stole, and subsequently removed, is number one on Google Images for Marilyn Monroe).

I realised that a fraction of one per cent of those new visitors actually bothered to click elsewhere (if you are one of the five people who did, and has decided to stick around, welcome...!)

(By the way, this is a different stats counter to the one on the front page. Geek, moi?)

Some of the people who left comments were perfectly reasonable. I didn't publish the most offensive comments, nor those that consisted primarily of personal attacks. I received four emails, one supportive, one oppositionalist but polite and reasonable, and two that were personal attacks.

With the comments standing at 52, I decided to have the last word, and close the comments with a characteristically long-winded rebuttal and summation. I have decided to reprint my closing statement below. From now on, I am never going to wish to be one of those blogs that gets lots of comments. It's nice to get comments either from regulars or from people who stumble in by chance, especially when they're thoughtful, even when they state their disagreement. It's not so nice to get them from some really angry people who feel a need to hit out. (I'm also puzzled why I got so much hate from one particular, unnamed, country. With few exceptions, all the hate I have received on the internet has been from that one country, yet all the citizens of that country I have met, either there or here, in Real Life, including off the internet, have been the diametrical opposite of hating, well, apart from the flasher in Central Park, and that fckd up taxi driver in New Orleans, obviously...):

Red Shoes

In November 2003, when the blogosphere was tiny, there was a blogmeet, somewhere in the wilds of North London, in a basement of a place. It was very enjoyable; I seem to remember spending most of the night looking up to Hg in admiration.

I have found this photo on people wearing red shoes. One is Karen Uborka, not sure which, and I completely forget who else had red shoes. It's not like there were a great many women there.

Were you there? Can you remember?

Blogging past present and future

It started for me way back in the mists of time. I fondly thought that a) nobody was reading it and b) (simultaneously) that I would be acclaimed the greatest blogger ever, 2002.

I can't believe the sort of stuff I wrote about back then. But then, I can't believe the sort of things people write now. I used to write about work, moaning about individuals who, although not named, were easily identifiable. I used to write about matters related, albeit tangentially, to things I was actually working on. I also use to comment on stuff my employer did, even though I always did so as a lay person, not an employee.

I also used to write about my feelings, about other people, about my feelings about other people. On the whole, I don't do that now, either. My blog used to be an exercise in personal publishing. Now I focus a lot more on objectivity, events, football, music. Pretty pictures.

Once upon a time I'd be updating a dozen times a day. The blogosphere was very small. My blogroll was small - I could happily read it over breakfast.

It's all changed. Even though I hate the term, and find the concept vague and exclusive yet all-embracing, I've gone a bit Web 2.0. I now have on my sidebar, the comments I have left on other people's blogs. I don't devote an entire entry to a single link, because I del.icio.us it. I Twitter, not blog, my stream-of-consciousness.

During the course of a day, any day I have numerous thoughts. sometimes, when armed with a notepad and pen, I write them down. That has a satisfying feel to it, not just in the sensuality of fountain pen against quality paper, but in the 'getting it out of my system'. Those thoughts are not frightfully interesting in themselves, but they form a continuum, they continue on from thoughts yesterday, and last year, twenty years ago.

I am a dreamer. I used to think that day dreaming was something where one actively engages one's imagination in creative scenario-setting whilst doing something else. But of late, I have discovered that I am capable, even when fully awake, to drift off into another consciousness, that by its sheer illogicality, is clearly not of my volition. Also of late - since I started taking Tramadol and mixing it with Valerian - I have some extraordinarily vivid and lucid dreams, to the point of hallucinating. It's said that, after kittens, and apologies for not updating, 'dreams' are the most boring blogposts. "And then this happened, and that happened and I did this..." zzzzzzzz. But this week I have been dreaming about Christmas. No, not about the ones we used to know where the treetops glisten and children listen to hear sleighbells in the snow. But of hassles. Of catching trains, of wrapping presents. Of a total stranger coming for dinner and criticising the way I arranged the cutlery and the glasses.

I could do a daily post, combining the links, the streams of consciousness, the photos, the rants, the reviews.

But I'd soon lose interest. So, if you are a regular reader, expect nothing except inconsistency. If I tried to tailor this to meet expectations, or to fit neatly into a category, it would cease to be me. I can't keep up a drivellish stream of writing about nothing, even though, seemingly, that's what makes a good blog. But then, I'm not very good at conversation about nothing.

And there's no point to this post. If you've read this far, well done

Meanderings on blogging

I have been failing almost entirely to keep up with my blogroll since before Xmas. It's a syndrome: the more unread posts that mount up, the more daunting Bloglines seems. I have a long blogroll, too long, and it serves both as an alert for readers to blogs that I like, and conceivably that they may like, and like a minor salute to their writers.

But to be truthful, all long-running blogs go through ups-and-downs. They evolve over time, and even when they are not on official hiatus, they nevertheless reflect disinclination on the part of their blogger, which is usually reflective of stuff that's happening in their lives.

I am conscious that, with a couple of exceptions, I have not commented on any blogs since Christmas. I feel guilty about that. Perhaps there are bloggers saying, hmm, not had a comment from Gert for ages. Or maybe that is arrogant of me: whether it's comments or hits, I tend to notice those who are present rather than those who are absent, and no doubt everyone else is the same.

When I return from holiday, I shall re-apply my self to blog-reading in a way to maximise my enjoyment, because that is why I do it. But, in the meantime, if you are a blogger, feel free to leave a comment in my box, highlighting an entry from 2007 you are particularly proud of. Alternatively, bloggers and non-bloggers alike, why not randomly pick a blog you've never read before from the sidebar and go over there and read it. If you like it, leave a comment here to say why. If you don't like it, well, let's be nice and put it down to differences in tastes/interests.

I might send the occasional text to Twitter, but I don't intend to have an endless stream of 'sitting on the beach' 'sitting in a restaurant' .

We don't actually leave until Sunday, but becaus eI'm not working today and Jimmy has left the café, for ever, we've been having one of those eve of holiday days. All that's missing is the obligatory curry, because the curry house owner's brother decided to stab and hospitalise him last night. When I went past early afternoon, the police were in attendance.

How the media works

Three Rs

I've posted before about my disbelief of the naivety throughout the blogosphere about the way the Sunday Times treated this woman. For the record, I think it was despicable.

There is something inherent in the human character that manifests itself as a need for recognition. There was a very funny TV series a year or so ago, where this bloke would introduce himself in social situations as a Company Director - that mattered to him more than "I'm a likeable fun caring bloke". With many bloggers, the desire is for media recognition.

What worries me, even as people condemn the tactics of Nicholas Hellen, or indeed as they comment on the hounding of Kate Middleton, is some belief that this behaviour is novel or unusual, and still bloggers in general seem keen to have the media exposure which is oxygen for the compulsive writer.

There are very few scruples in journalism. The venal are those that prat on, confusing an expensive advertising campaign with a popular buzz 'everyone's talking about it'; less forgiveable are those that participate in the advertising campaign implying their words to be original and inspired without declaring what inducements in money or goody bags they have received in order to promote the product/TV programme, whatever.

The worst are those that use blackmail and bullying to achieve their ends, and disguise it as journalism.

But, in the end, they exist solely to sell newspapers, and nothing sells newspapers more than the intrusion into people's privacy, whether it's Abby Lee, Kate Middleton or some poor sap whose had something devastating happen to them and finds their extra-marital affair, age-old conviction for petty crime, or embarrassing health secrets splashed across the newspapers. I daresay there are honourable journalists - indeed I know there are in the specialist Press - but I do wonder what it means when intelligent, educated, mature, thoughtful, insightful and analytical adults are surprised at the snake-like media, when it's nothing new and has been happening as long as I can remember and, I daresay, much longer.

The Poor Mouth

The Poor Mouth

Occasionally, I like to give a mention to a blog* that I really like that appears to have escaped the radar of the usual mavens. I have known Jams a good few years; one day he came up to me in the street and said that he had found my blog via Bloggers4Labour and that he had recently started blogging. I nodded and smiled, as one does when some scruffy bloke approaches you in the street. I have to confess I rarely click on his embedded YouTubes, and I'm not a fan of kitten-blogging, but otherwise, it is a good informative and sometimes moving blog

* a few years ago, the long disappeared Bingobowden suggested that in his absence, we pick a blog randomly from his blogroll, and I picked one called Scaryduck and gave it a a bit of a plug. I wonder whatever happened to that blog...