Marramgrass

Remembrance.

Some reflections for you on Armistice Day:

Glenn talks poppies, twice. As do Jonny, Cheryl and David.

The poppy keeps coming up in conversation, along with the question of how to remember rightly. Brodie thinks carefully about the meeting of pacifism and Remembrance, leading up to what I’m sure will be a useful examination of solidarity and neighbourliness. It’s Brodie’s final point that rings most true for me:

Fourthly, remembering is not a glorification of war but a lament. Lament is a very scriptural practice and one that at times for the health of a nation needs a national expression.

Brother Maynard is also worth reading.

Every year I think about how I relate to our corporate Remembrance, and every year I seem to get further away from a conclusion. Perhaps our agonising at such length tells something about importance.

Repetition.

Last night, as we were driving home from a visit to family, we got to talking about music. The question was: what are the songs that you could listen to over and over again, winding the tape back or skipping the CD to the start of the track, because there’s something about them that makes your scalp tingle? (I’m sure you know what I mean.)

I could quite happily think of several dozen. Some because they capture a particular emotion; some because they evoke a time in my life (this was the criterion that prompted my wife most of all); some are faintly embarrassing while others are broadly accepted classics; some draw me in through the vocal, some through instrumentals; some are even notable simply for the tone of the guitar.

The following are a few of those songs that, at some time in the past, I have listened to again and again — just because.

Like I said, there’s some fairly embarrassing music in there, but all are tracks that at some point have grabbed me and not let go. For each I could go into great detail why it’s here, and I could go many more again. Any to add?

Bright.

Shave and a haircut.

One more from Dublin in September.

At the end of the day.

Simply Food.

I’ve finally grabbed a chance to scan the rest of the pictures from our trip to Dublin in September. On the Monday evening, while my wife was studying in our hotel room, I took a walk with a camera. It must have been somewhere just before 9 o’clock, and the staff at M&S Simply Food were tidying up. This was my view in the window.

A peculiar thing.

Stu recently posted in defence of the BBC, reminding me of I Believe in the BBC from a few years ago.

I’m not given to fervent nationalistic (with a small N :-) pride, but I have often thought that the BBC is one of the high points of life in the UK, and something to be proud of — kind of like that other great and maligned semi-public body, the NHS. (Yes. I said it.)

Both receive constant scrutiny and criticism, often inspired by their fairly direct reliance on money straight out of the pockets of people like you and me, but both do a generally good job and enrich the lives of countless people, including me. In the case of the BBC, its reach is global.

I took a moment to tally up all the different ways I consume BBC content: RSS feeds from its news website, the website itself, radio (Radio Ulster and Radio 4) in the car, television as it’s broadcast (BBC 1, 2, 3, 4, News), TV and radio via iPlayer, podcasts based on various radio shows. Not bad for my 140 quid.

Of course the content of the programming can vary in quality, but much of it is excellent and it provides a great range of different kinds of content. The licence fee is controversial, but it works, and I suppose that not having to rely on revenue from advertising frees the BBC in many ways.

I suppose what I’m saying is let’s not take it for granted; where else can you find the pure entertainment of Stephen Fry visiting every state in America?