My resilient apple tree is finally coming round. There are blooms on all of the branches, as you can see below. I may even get apples in the autumn.
Walter Blotscher
Sunday, 6 May 2012
Saturday, 5 May 2012
ELECTED MAYORS
One of the features of the British political landscape which is in sharp contrast to the Danish is the fact that the U.K. is highly centralised. Local authorities have, in reality, very little power. Since the abolition of the rates (property taxes) under Margaret Thatcher, nearly all public revenues are collected by central Government; and although councils can spend money, a lot of it is subject to controls of one sort or another from Whitehall. Meanwhile councillors are not paid, but can only collect expenses, meaning that it is difficult to attract talent. In Denmark, on the other hand, kommuner can (and do) set income tax rates, which vary across the country, the mayorship is a full-time job (and is paid accordingly), and decisions about local schools, roads and old people's homes are taken locally and financed accordingly.
Nowhere is this difference more apparent than in London, which has roughly as many people as the whole of Denmark. At least London has a paid mayor (Boris Johnson, reelected this week, thereby bucking an anti-coalition trend in local election results). But his powers are limited to not much more than transport and the bully pulpit. He is more an ambassador for the city - although quite a good one - than a real mayor.
Egged on by the Liberal Democrats, historically the champions of localism, David Cameron has shown an admirable willingness to do something about this problem. The starting point, admittedly a modest one, was a series of referenda this week on whether major towns outside London should follow the capital's example and have elected mayors. Unfortunately for localism, nine of the ten cities voting said no, with only Bristol saying yes. The naysayers included big regional cities such as Manchester, Newcastle, Sheffield and Leeds.
Voter turnout was very low, so it is difficult to know exactly what conclusion to draw from this. Perhaps the most realistic one is that British voters are fed up with politicians in general; elected mayors would mean more professional politicians, which would be a bad thing, ergo we should say no. Given the dismal state of national politics, I can understand that feeling. Nevertheless, I also think it is a missed opportunity. London can't - and shouldn't - run everything; and as politics becomes less ideological and more managerial, it is important for local problems to be sorted out locally. After all, David Cameron may well be a clever chap, but he will never have enough knowledge to be able to make the buses run on time in Salford.
Walter Blotscher
One of the features of the British political landscape which is in sharp contrast to the Danish is the fact that the U.K. is highly centralised. Local authorities have, in reality, very little power. Since the abolition of the rates (property taxes) under Margaret Thatcher, nearly all public revenues are collected by central Government; and although councils can spend money, a lot of it is subject to controls of one sort or another from Whitehall. Meanwhile councillors are not paid, but can only collect expenses, meaning that it is difficult to attract talent. In Denmark, on the other hand, kommuner can (and do) set income tax rates, which vary across the country, the mayorship is a full-time job (and is paid accordingly), and decisions about local schools, roads and old people's homes are taken locally and financed accordingly.
Nowhere is this difference more apparent than in London, which has roughly as many people as the whole of Denmark. At least London has a paid mayor (Boris Johnson, reelected this week, thereby bucking an anti-coalition trend in local election results). But his powers are limited to not much more than transport and the bully pulpit. He is more an ambassador for the city - although quite a good one - than a real mayor.
Egged on by the Liberal Democrats, historically the champions of localism, David Cameron has shown an admirable willingness to do something about this problem. The starting point, admittedly a modest one, was a series of referenda this week on whether major towns outside London should follow the capital's example and have elected mayors. Unfortunately for localism, nine of the ten cities voting said no, with only Bristol saying yes. The naysayers included big regional cities such as Manchester, Newcastle, Sheffield and Leeds.
Voter turnout was very low, so it is difficult to know exactly what conclusion to draw from this. Perhaps the most realistic one is that British voters are fed up with politicians in general; elected mayors would mean more professional politicians, which would be a bad thing, ergo we should say no. Given the dismal state of national politics, I can understand that feeling. Nevertheless, I also think it is a missed opportunity. London can't - and shouldn't - run everything; and as politics becomes less ideological and more managerial, it is important for local problems to be sorted out locally. After all, David Cameron may well be a clever chap, but he will never have enough knowledge to be able to make the buses run on time in Salford.
Walter Blotscher
Friday, 4 May 2012
STORE BEDEDAG (2)
Today is Store Bededag ("Big Prayer Day") in Denmark again. I didn't do much praying, in fact I didn't do very much at all. I had a cycle ride at some point, did some tidying up, and watched the start of the ice hockey world championships.Then I got my daughter to cut my hair in between watching the four episodes of Downton Abbey that I had missed owing to my recent walking tour and trip to Basel. Oh, and I had a couple of the delicious cup cakes that she had made in honour of her boyfriend's birthday.
Store Bededag has been much in the news of late, since the rumour is that the Government wants to abolish it. Not completely; but they are thinking of moving it to a Sunday, which would allow everybody to work an extra day on the Friday they now get off. Getting Danes to work longer is one of the Government's perennial themes, and tripartite discussions on this point between employers, unions and politicians are due to start this summer. The problem though is that Danes show absolutely no inclination to want to work more than they already do, no matter how much of an incentive they are given, what they want is less stress and more leisure time.
Recognising this, moving Store Bededag to a Sunday would in fact be quite a smart political move. Any normal tripartite agreement could easily be voted down by stroppy workers. But changes to public holidays require Parliamentary legislation, which the Government is better able to control. At least Ministers pray that they do.
Walter Blotscher
Today is Store Bededag ("Big Prayer Day") in Denmark again. I didn't do much praying, in fact I didn't do very much at all. I had a cycle ride at some point, did some tidying up, and watched the start of the ice hockey world championships.Then I got my daughter to cut my hair in between watching the four episodes of Downton Abbey that I had missed owing to my recent walking tour and trip to Basel. Oh, and I had a couple of the delicious cup cakes that she had made in honour of her boyfriend's birthday.
Store Bededag has been much in the news of late, since the rumour is that the Government wants to abolish it. Not completely; but they are thinking of moving it to a Sunday, which would allow everybody to work an extra day on the Friday they now get off. Getting Danes to work longer is one of the Government's perennial themes, and tripartite discussions on this point between employers, unions and politicians are due to start this summer. The problem though is that Danes show absolutely no inclination to want to work more than they already do, no matter how much of an incentive they are given, what they want is less stress and more leisure time.
Recognising this, moving Store Bededag to a Sunday would in fact be quite a smart political move. Any normal tripartite agreement could easily be voted down by stroppy workers. But changes to public holidays require Parliamentary legislation, which the Government is better able to control. At least Ministers pray that they do.
Walter Blotscher
Thursday, 3 May 2012
CYCLING (2)
The hot weather that we had in Basel had worked its way up to Denmark, so today I was ready for my first cycle ride of the year. I have done quite a lot of cycling around town since 1 January, but this was the real thing. I cleaned my bike, put on new back brakes, and oiled the chain and gears. Then I put on my cycling kit and did a leisurely 30km, with no serious hills.
There is nothing like pedalling on small country roads under a hot sun, with very little wind. When I got back, I found that I was down to 76.8 kg, a good starting point for the summer season. Now all I need to do is get some kilometers under my belt.
Walter Blotscher
The hot weather that we had in Basel had worked its way up to Denmark, so today I was ready for my first cycle ride of the year. I have done quite a lot of cycling around town since 1 January, but this was the real thing. I cleaned my bike, put on new back brakes, and oiled the chain and gears. Then I put on my cycling kit and did a leisurely 30km, with no serious hills.
There is nothing like pedalling on small country roads under a hot sun, with very little wind. When I got back, I found that I was down to 76.8 kg, a good starting point for the summer season. Now all I need to do is get some kilometers under my belt.
Walter Blotscher
Wednesday, 2 May 2012
DENMARK AND WW2
Forget Iron Lady or Mission Impossible 4, the Danish film hit of the year is undoubtedly Hvidsten Gruppen ("the Whitestone Group"), the true story of a WW2 resistance group based around the Hvidsten Inn in Jutland. The group hid weapons and agents parachuted in by the British, but they were caught when one of the agents was arrested by the Germans in Copenhagen and revealed all. Eight Danes, three from the family that ran the inn, were shot.
Readers of this blog will know from an earlier post that Denmark's relationship with Germany has long been a tricky one; and the period of occupation from 1940-45 the trickiest part of it. As a foreigner, it has always seemed as if the time was something that Danes would rather not talk about. Yet the success of the film suggests that there is huge interest in it. As of last week, it had been seen in the cinema by roughly 700,000 people, getting on for 15% of the population.
For us at the local cinema, it has been a great success, playing to full houses every night. I showed the film to 114 pensioners last Tuesday morning, and we had to turn people away. Normally, when the credits come up at the end, some people stand up and begin to leave; this time, nobody moved until the screen went completely dark.
We have had Flammen og Citronen and Hvidsten Gruppen, two films about resistance fighters. Now all that is needed is a film about the Danes that collaborated with the Germans, of which there were more than a few. That would be the most difficult of all, but probably necessary, if there is to be real closure.
Walter Blotscher
Forget Iron Lady or Mission Impossible 4, the Danish film hit of the year is undoubtedly Hvidsten Gruppen ("the Whitestone Group"), the true story of a WW2 resistance group based around the Hvidsten Inn in Jutland. The group hid weapons and agents parachuted in by the British, but they were caught when one of the agents was arrested by the Germans in Copenhagen and revealed all. Eight Danes, three from the family that ran the inn, were shot.
Readers of this blog will know from an earlier post that Denmark's relationship with Germany has long been a tricky one; and the period of occupation from 1940-45 the trickiest part of it. As a foreigner, it has always seemed as if the time was something that Danes would rather not talk about. Yet the success of the film suggests that there is huge interest in it. As of last week, it had been seen in the cinema by roughly 700,000 people, getting on for 15% of the population.
For us at the local cinema, it has been a great success, playing to full houses every night. I showed the film to 114 pensioners last Tuesday morning, and we had to turn people away. Normally, when the credits come up at the end, some people stand up and begin to leave; this time, nobody moved until the screen went completely dark.
We have had Flammen og Citronen and Hvidsten Gruppen, two films about resistance fighters. Now all that is needed is a film about the Danes that collaborated with the Germans, of which there were more than a few. That would be the most difficult of all, but probably necessary, if there is to be real closure.
Walter Blotscher
Tuesday, 1 May 2012
BASEL
I have just come back from a long weekend, visiting my younger son in Basel. He has been there for the past year, playing handball for the local team, RTV 1879, with time off to join the Great Britain Olympic squad for training camps.
Basel is located on the Rhine in the northwest corner of Switzerland, where it meets France and Germany. Although there are more than 800,000 people in the urban area, most of them live in the suburbs over the borders, where it is cheaper, and commute to work. Basel itself has only about 170,000 inhabitants, which gives it the feel of a "small" big city. That feeling is enhanced by a brilliantly efficient and highly integrated transport system, with trams in the city centre (I am a great fan of tram cities). Basel airport is actually in France, but that doesn't matter, since there is a little corridor, which pokes out from the town to the airport in order to allow for a bus connection. Five minutes through customs, fifteen minutes on the bus, and you are in the heart of the city. Switzerland is part of the Schengen agreements, so there is no passport control, coming from Denmark.
One advantage of Switzerland's traditional neutrality is that there are lots of well-preserved old buildings in the major cities, such as the gate below, which originally formed part of the mediæval walls. Much of Basel's centre is closed to traffic (other than trams), and there are beautiful town houses dating from the Middle Ages. I remember the cathedral, set high on a bluff overlooking the river, from 35 years ago, when I visited as a 17-year old, backpacking around Europe on an interrail ticket. But the best building must be the newly restored town hall, resplendent in red and reflecting the solid civic virtues of an independent city state.
On Saturday, we took the bus to Zürich, where my son's team was playing an all-or-nothing game against Stäfa, a small town on the lake. A win or a draw, and Basel would stay in the top division of the Swiss league and the season would be over; a loss, and they would have to go into a relegation play-off with three other teams. On a baking hot afternoon, and in a cauldron atmosphere, Stäfa quickly built up a 3-goal lead, which they had extended to five with 12 minutes left to play. Then Basel started to string things together, the opponents' goalkeeper stopped saving everything, and Basel eventually equalised to make it 28-28 with 21 seconds on the clock. Stäfa took off their goalkeeper to create an extra man, but in the confusion they sent on two extra players instead of one, which is not allowed. So Basel got the ball back with three seconds to go and that was that. Because of the game's importance, my son didn't get any playing time (he is the reserve goalkeeper, and the number one plays for the Swiss national team), but he had predicted that, so I wasn't too disappointed. There was a lot of beer and sausages and schlager music on the bus on the way home, which continued at a nightclub long after midnight. I left them to it.
On the Sunday, my son and I and his hangover took a train and bus into the hills outside Basel and did some walking. Starting at a height of around 450 metres, we did a fairly stiff climb up to Passwang, at 1,204 metres the highest point in the canton of Basel, which gave fantastic views of the serious Alps to the south. We were fortified along the way by fresh apple juice, a barrel of which had been left for sale by a farmer at the bottom; and by goulash soup at one of those alpine restaurants just below the summit. After admiring the views, we hiked down the other side, caught the bus down the valley and the train back into Basel. We had coffee and cake at the main railway station, while watching FC Basel clinch the Swiss football championship for the third year in a row on a big screen television. The city centre was closed that evening as fans took over the streets to celebrate; we made do with a doner kebab over the river in Basel's surprisingly large immigrant quarter.
One other nice touch to the weekend. On the bus to Stäfa, we passed through Habsburg, the village from which the family took its name. It was a moment for historical reflection, as we sped through the tunnel under the castle at 100km/h.
Walter Blotscher
I have just come back from a long weekend, visiting my younger son in Basel. He has been there for the past year, playing handball for the local team, RTV 1879, with time off to join the Great Britain Olympic squad for training camps.
Basel is located on the Rhine in the northwest corner of Switzerland, where it meets France and Germany. Although there are more than 800,000 people in the urban area, most of them live in the suburbs over the borders, where it is cheaper, and commute to work. Basel itself has only about 170,000 inhabitants, which gives it the feel of a "small" big city. That feeling is enhanced by a brilliantly efficient and highly integrated transport system, with trams in the city centre (I am a great fan of tram cities). Basel airport is actually in France, but that doesn't matter, since there is a little corridor, which pokes out from the town to the airport in order to allow for a bus connection. Five minutes through customs, fifteen minutes on the bus, and you are in the heart of the city. Switzerland is part of the Schengen agreements, so there is no passport control, coming from Denmark.
One advantage of Switzerland's traditional neutrality is that there are lots of well-preserved old buildings in the major cities, such as the gate below, which originally formed part of the mediæval walls. Much of Basel's centre is closed to traffic (other than trams), and there are beautiful town houses dating from the Middle Ages. I remember the cathedral, set high on a bluff overlooking the river, from 35 years ago, when I visited as a 17-year old, backpacking around Europe on an interrail ticket. But the best building must be the newly restored town hall, resplendent in red and reflecting the solid civic virtues of an independent city state.
On Saturday, we took the bus to Zürich, where my son's team was playing an all-or-nothing game against Stäfa, a small town on the lake. A win or a draw, and Basel would stay in the top division of the Swiss league and the season would be over; a loss, and they would have to go into a relegation play-off with three other teams. On a baking hot afternoon, and in a cauldron atmosphere, Stäfa quickly built up a 3-goal lead, which they had extended to five with 12 minutes left to play. Then Basel started to string things together, the opponents' goalkeeper stopped saving everything, and Basel eventually equalised to make it 28-28 with 21 seconds on the clock. Stäfa took off their goalkeeper to create an extra man, but in the confusion they sent on two extra players instead of one, which is not allowed. So Basel got the ball back with three seconds to go and that was that. Because of the game's importance, my son didn't get any playing time (he is the reserve goalkeeper, and the number one plays for the Swiss national team), but he had predicted that, so I wasn't too disappointed. There was a lot of beer and sausages and schlager music on the bus on the way home, which continued at a nightclub long after midnight. I left them to it.
On the Sunday, my son and I and his hangover took a train and bus into the hills outside Basel and did some walking. Starting at a height of around 450 metres, we did a fairly stiff climb up to Passwang, at 1,204 metres the highest point in the canton of Basel, which gave fantastic views of the serious Alps to the south. We were fortified along the way by fresh apple juice, a barrel of which had been left for sale by a farmer at the bottom; and by goulash soup at one of those alpine restaurants just below the summit. After admiring the views, we hiked down the other side, caught the bus down the valley and the train back into Basel. We had coffee and cake at the main railway station, while watching FC Basel clinch the Swiss football championship for the third year in a row on a big screen television. The city centre was closed that evening as fans took over the streets to celebrate; we made do with a doner kebab over the river in Basel's surprisingly large immigrant quarter.
One other nice touch to the weekend. On the bus to Stäfa, we passed through Habsburg, the village from which the family took its name. It was a moment for historical reflection, as we sped through the tunnel under the castle at 100km/h.
Walter Blotscher
Wednesday, 25 April 2012
PENALTIES
Isn't it amazing how many penalties are missed in top football matches? In the Barcelona-Chelsea Champions League semi-final last night, the world's best player Lionel Messi hit the bar from the spot when given the chance to put Barcelona up 3-1, 3-2 on aggregate. Chelsea eventually clawed back a late equaliser and went through to the final.
I have just watched the very exciting second leg of the other semi-final between Bayern Munich and Real Madrid, which finished 1-2, 3-3 on aggregate. In the subsequent penalty shoot-out, Bayern won 3-1 after nine shots. In other words, there were five missed or saved penalties against four scored, which is a terrible statistic for professional players paid a fortune to kick a ball.
Pressure is of course the reason. Real pressure.
Walter Blotscher
Isn't it amazing how many penalties are missed in top football matches? In the Barcelona-Chelsea Champions League semi-final last night, the world's best player Lionel Messi hit the bar from the spot when given the chance to put Barcelona up 3-1, 3-2 on aggregate. Chelsea eventually clawed back a late equaliser and went through to the final.
I have just watched the very exciting second leg of the other semi-final between Bayern Munich and Real Madrid, which finished 1-2, 3-3 on aggregate. In the subsequent penalty shoot-out, Bayern won 3-1 after nine shots. In other words, there were five missed or saved penalties against four scored, which is a terrible statistic for professional players paid a fortune to kick a ball.
Pressure is of course the reason. Real pressure.
Walter Blotscher
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)
