Posts

Showing posts from November, 2021
Image
  It’s Trad, Dad I think I am the only person in my circle of friends who likes trad jazz. The others, especially the musicians and those with a serious interest in music, tend to think of it as corny, cheesy, perhaps over-simplified in terms of melodies. George Orwell once wrote an essay on Kipling in which he coined the phrase ‘good bad poetry’. He did not give a clear definition, but the examples he gave, including much of Kipling’s work, Dowson’s Cynara (from which we were bequeathed the phrase ‘gone with the wind’), and the Charge of the Light Brigade, give you an idea of what he meant. Sentimentality, obvious themes, an element of superficiality and a turn of phrase with which the reader can identify are the attributes which his examples seem to have in common. He described a good bad poem as ‘a graceful monument to the obvious’. And something similar could be said of trad jazz. Catchy, stick-in-your-ear melodies, lacking in subtlety, but nevertheless sometimes evoking ...
Image
  You Have to be In it to Win It On Sunday I went to a Taekwondo seminar in Manchester. This included 45 minutes each of step sparring (attack, block, counter-attack), one-for-one kicking and free sparring, self-defence, destruction (breaking things by kicking or punching), and poomsae (patterns, essentially choreography of series of techniques). It was a terrific training session, but it was also there to help you assess whether you were ready to grade up (in my case to second Dan) in December. I decided that in view of my rather inconsistent performance in certain areas that I am not ready. This makes me a bit sad. If I don’t go for it, I can’t grade up. There’s no point praying to God that you’ll win the lottery if you won’t meet him half way and buy a ticket. However, there will be another chance in six months. I feel that I would have a very good chance of laying an egg if I made the attempt now, and my self-esteem is quite sufficiently low already. My dad was a great beli...
Image
Education, Education, Education There is a radio programme called The Museum of Curiosity, in which guests are asked to donate items to this virtual museum, and to explain why they have a particular interest in their donations. There are no rules as to what can and cannot be donated. Donations in the past have included Epping Forest (I might have a story about that for you in a future blog), the yeti and the Asian giant hornet. A year or so ago, I was wondering what I might donate, and I decided it would be a book: Letters from WS Gosset to RA Fisher . When I started this blog, I resolved never to talk shop. This is where I cave in. I am reminded of Spike Milligan’s opening epigram to Adolph Hitler: My Part in his Downfall . Spike’s preface was, ‘After Puckoon, I swore I would never write another novel: this is it.’ Gosset and Fisher were giants of the science of statistics in the early 20 th century. Sir Ronald Fisher is credited with being the father of statistical methods, al...