Bazza Mackenzie was nearly right.

This is a variant on my 'brickbats and bouquets" pages of my main blog.  With this blog I intend to give bouquets as and when they arise so this is going to be pretty much a kvetch page.

Background

Bazza Mackenzie is a cartoon character invented by Barry Humphries.  I am not sure he invented a two word phrase implying that most people from the UK are illegitimate but certainly used it a lot.  This post is devoted to those we find who deserve the appellation.

The UK Passport Office.

I believe they are now known as the Identity and Passport Office .  Whatever.  I had my UK passport effectively cancelled when I emigrated to ensure that I did my two years before leaving the country.  I found I could get an Australian one a year later, which saved me about $500 on a plane fare back to the UK, and have never revitalised my British one.   I have thought about it several times but on each occasion the rules and rubbish have been such that I have abandoned the project at early stages.

Low points in their past performances have been

• the introduction of charges to make a phone call to the establishment here; 
• moving the office out to the airport; and
• charging an arm and a leg.

Additional nadir inducing efforts are:

• anyone with an old passport (and my expired 37 years ago)  is treated as though they have never had a passport at all and thus have to produce a whole nunch of documents; and
• you have to be interviewed (presumably to check that you don't have any bad habits such as lying about WMDs); and
• the interview is done at a Post Office Shop.

Again I save myself time and about $200 by sticking with my Australian passport.

Mr Plod and friends

It will not be a surprise that this element is not about the friendly police person depicted by the nice Ms Blyton, nor the old codger from Dock Green who started Saturday evening on BBC in the 1960s.  This is about the current crop who seem to share personalities with Toby Meres frm Callan.

It appears from what I have read in the media (who never lie - stuff is on the internet so it must be true) that the UK has the highest level of video surveillance of anywhere in the world.  This seems to be exemplified by the presence - according to my AA Atlas - of 4,000 fixed speed cameras.   I feel a recording task coming on: how many speed cameras did we see today?

This task was made difficult by the appearance every few miles of a sign about speed cameras.  All this meant was that the forces of repression might use an annoyance in the area, not that they had one positioned waiting for our pleasure.  Judging by the number of people that zipped past us the devices were rare.  I think we saw 1 cop running  mobile unit during our trip.

In fact the only place we saw a lot of cops was the Norfolk Show.  Of course, there was absolutely no reason for them to be there at all: a better behaved crowd would be hard to imagine.

A taxonomy of pains in the back acre

While thinking about this trip I suddenly recalled a English folk(ish) song "Jobsworth".  This is devoted to low order public officials who do nothing but stp other people from doing things.  The refrain includes (repeatedly "Jobs worth, jobs worth, it's more than my job's worth".  This has led to a challenge on the trip to actually get someone to say "It's more than my job's worth."

Of more relevance to the heading of this section is that there are at least three types of interfering nuisances:

1. Mr Plod  (sworn in and, occasionally, sworn at);
2. Jobsworths (not sworn in but very often sworn at);
3. Private security guards (not sworn in and not sworn at, unless you have a very good relationship with a dentist).

I suspect there will ample opportunity to look at all three major types and possibly further develop the classification.

The Loony left

The following comes from the Australian newspaper (which would never ever tell a porky: it is owned by News Limited and if you can't trust them who can you trust?).  However, I have just noticed that this was published on 1/4/2010: come in sucker?

• A BRITISH grandmother has been heavily fined and electronically tagged for selling a goldfish to a child, triggering criticism of over-zealous use of animal protection laws.
• Pet shop owner Joan Higgins, 66, was fined £1000 ($1640) also given a dusk-to-dawn curfew for selling an animal to a person under the age of 16, but her 47-year-old son Mark - also ordered to do community service - slammed the ruling as a farce.
• The pair were prosecuted after the local council sent a 14-year-old boy to buy a goldfish in a "sting" operation following reports that their shop, Majors Pets, had sold a gerbil to a teenager with learning difficulties.
• The shopkeepers sold the fish without asking his age or how the fish would be cared for, prosecutors said.

 I foresee some interesting times ahead.  Perhaps I need a page for bizarre media stuff observed while over there?

British Birdtrack

Since I believe strongly that having had the privilege of seeing birds the information gained should be use for conservation purposes, and the British Trust for Ornithology had a stand at the RNS advertising their birdtrack website I decided to give it a go.  This was despite some communication with a British Bird Atlas person who convinced me that the whole exercise was unduly complicated.  (A reference from Sean Dooley in "Anoraks to Zitting Cisticola" seems appropriate: he defines ornithologists as people who call stamp collecting 'philately' and themselves "onanists".)

The first thing I found was this load of lawyerly garbage: "The BTO has published some health and safety information for volunteer fieldworkers. Please take a few minutes to read this leaflet which can be
found here: http://www.bto.org/survey/h&s_notes.htm  Following these simple The BTO has published some health and safety information for volunteer fieldworkers. Please take a few minutes to read this leaflet which can be found here: http://www.bto.org/survey/h&s_notes.htm Following these simple guidelines will help to ensure that your birdwatching activities are both safe and enjoyable."  One can feel the enjoyment draining away as one reads!

Then I found that everything was set up for repeated records by people who know the area well.  I tried to put in some data for an area of North Norfolk and found that I had to attest that it was all in an area shown in a Google earth image.  I didn't have a clue if it was all in that area, and I certainly wasn't going to repeat this exercise for the 15 or so other areas for which I had data. Pass, on helping them.

19 June: To Ingleby

Arrive Manchester, drive to Ingleby Manor.  Probably do sleep!

The immigration guy was very chatty and friendly. No way was he a jobsworth!  In fact Manchester airport was very good in all respects.

The hire car was picked up in a very friendly way. It is a turbo diesel Skoda and rolls along very nicely (especially as it has cruise control.) As predicted by the AA Atlas we are using there are speed cameras everywhere, including a long stretch on the M56 which used average speed. Despite all this many cars went past me, who was sitting on 70. (I assume that is still the motorway limit – there are no signs to say so! ) As we have driven around it is very difficult to work out where the speed cameras are.  There are many signs - in some cases 4 or 5 within 2 miles - but rarely do I spot a camera.  In fact these are mainly the equivalent of "speed cameras may be used in this area" and not an indication of a fixed item: however I am still amazed that anyone in the UK who travels more than 10 km from home has a driving license.

While trying to work out where we could park in Middlesbrough I spoke to a couple of Middlesbrough Wardens. They said they didn't do parking, so couldn't help me but were very friendly.

Our visit to Middlesbrough was generally a bit fraught as I had basically had it – by this time we'd been travelling for 38 hours with not much sleep so I was stuffed. We got some cash and some groceries and that was about it. We found our way to Ingleby Manor where we were greeted by our very charming and friendly hostess and introduced to the Gun Room which is excellent.

A fair number of birds were seen on the way. First was a wood pigeon, and the best a kestrel (defined as best because I like them)!

The weather was ungood. 13C , overcast and windy. Our hostess said that the previous week it was 26 and sunny! No particular linguistic items, but the average denizen of Middlesbrough has an accent that could break rocks. (On the flight to Dubai we spoke to a young guy from York and, when speaking to us, he had a strong accent but when he was talking to another bloke at full speed I could not understand a word!)

22 June: Durham and Salthome

Leeds is Kultur: Art Gallery and Fairburn Ings (birds) and the Yorkshire Sculpture Park!

The first day of the BIG 3: high success with buildings, birds and beer.

After an exercise walk around Ingleby Greenhow we headed off for Durham, principally to check out the cathedral. En route we stopped to buy our first fuel ( I keep wanting to call it petrol – fortunately I stuck diesel in the motor). Fuel consumption has worked out at 49.6 mpg, not bad with a mixture of motorway, urban and very rural roads.

A pretty simple drive into Durham, and by following our eyes got a park close to the cathedral. This was in a private park and was a tad cheaper than the council one in York. However, this place let you pay post hoc (so you didn't have to guess how long you'd be) and gave change so you didn't get ripped off. I don't see this as a public/private distinction, just that York Council employs some jobsworth prats.

Durham cathedral was magnificent. Possibly the best cathedral I have ever visited anywhere for magnificent architecture. Unfortunately photography was not allowed (presumably because it reduced guidebook sales). It was huge in every dimension and followed Norman designs: according to Francs' guidebook it was the first place to use pointed window arches which were subsequently used everywhere. We read that a service has been given every day for more than 900 years!

We thought the glass was better than Chartres (ie it actually was clean enough to let light through) and much better made than York (which was very cluttered with lead). However the space wasn't full of light but dim enough to feel impressive. By clicking my tongue I rated the acoustics as very good- I'd love to go to a full on choral service here.

The two most impressive memorials were:

• 
  
  the tomb of the Venerable Bede (about 900 years old); and
• 
  
  the miners Register which recorded the names of miners killed in accidents at each mine. 6 July 1951 was not a good day at one mine, to which the book was open as they lost 10 guys that day. Its a tough area.

On our way to the cathedral I had stopped to scope out some cormorants in the river and felt a dog brush against me. On looking round it was 3 fat skinheads in police uniform with a very scruffy and old looking pooch. We came across them later and they seemed to have some plain clothes colleagues emerging from the market with 'substances' which the dog was detecting. The dog also snuffled some citizens but didn't detect whatever they were carrying.

I met the first jobsworth, in the shape of a woman who said very officiously that the courtyard of the castle (now part of the Uni) was closed. I merely said “yes” in response, rather than “go tell someone who gives a damn”.

Our next stop was Salthome Reserve run by the RSPB. This was a stunning place where everything was well set up and managed but they had avoided turning it into a zoo. It was quite bizarre to find such a great place in the middle of a very heavily industrialised area. They had quite a lot of punters there – my guess was 60 cars at any one time in the car park (and June/July is the worst time of the year). I recorded about 28 species in the two hours we were there, with many of them breeding. 17 of these were additions to the trip list.

The two images show the visitors centre (with the cooling towers from a “power from waste" station in the background) and a flock of Grey lag Geese sailing off with a petrochemical plant as background. It says something about the importance of the place that signs started on the A19 about 5 miles (and 4 major intersections) away. Perhaps this is the sort of thing to which some folk aspire for Kelly's Swamp in Canberra. Other than the 'Field of Dreams' approach – if you build it they will come- the first job is to get reliable water in the place and the second is to staff and manage the place properly. I would say that Salthome would be a good model to follow., and the RSPB would be a good source of expert advice.

We then moved on a tad to the Teesmouth National Nature Reserve to see the nesting avocets. It astonishes me that when I was growing up there was huge excitement about a pair of these nesting at Minsmere in Suffolk, and now they are in a heavy industrial area several hundred miles North. We also saw 38 seals (a mixture of common and grey seals) hauled out on a mud bank a tad further away.

All of this had induced thirst so we repaired to the White Swan in Stokesley for refreshment. Frances had a cider while I inhaled two good brews from the Captain Cook brewery: Black Porter and Slipway Ale.

A few linguistic and cultural observations.

• A Burger King in Durham was offering the chance to watch the World Cup final with Jimmy Greaves. I hadn't heard of him for many, many years but he is obviously still big news in the UK.
• An advertising sign (for beer) in the heavy industrial area on the North of the Tees; “Same colour as a footballers wife. But better tasting.”
• When in the pub we couldn't eavesdrop as we couldn't understand the locals talking between themselves. However when they talked to us they slowed down and the accent greatly reduced.

24 June: Cook memorial, Nunington, Helmsley; Fountains Abbey and Masham

Touring NW Yorkshire including Masham (so Frances may well be driving back to Ingleby).

24 June started with a bit of birding around the Manor. This added 2 species to the trip list and was all the birding that was done today.

After breakfast we headed off to visit the Captain Cook Memorial on top of the Moors. After a few misunderstandings of the map we scaled the initial part of the Cleveland Way (it was rather steep through a farm) and turned off on a track (also part of the Way) through a forest. I noticed some local was sitting at the intersection and once we had turned, he nicked off: was he watching us or am I just parnoid? This was pleasant walking. After a couple of kms we ascended once again to the memorial positioned on the edge of the moors.

The plaque really boosted Cook as a paragon of everything. Interestingly the only other country which got a mention was the Friendly Isles which is I think Fiji. A small quarry was nearby, indicating that the stone was not carried a great distance. Being on the edge of the Moor the view was pretty good. It was also rather exposed to the increasingly strong wind and gave one a closer look at the approaching cloud. We retreated.

We headed South towards Helmsley on a small and scenic road. This was far less busy than it had been on the Sunday. At some point we stopped to check out the Church of St Hilda, in honour of Frances' Mum. I think Durham had some some information about her (the Saint, not the Mum) but left off the 'a': I will check when we get back to internet contact.

On,on, and a descent to look at Rievaulx Abbey from the road. The village here was very pleasant with another old church and our first thatched house. Back up a steep hill (hoping we don't meet a tour bus coming down) and on to Helmsley. We sorted out the parking situation, where the warden, a jobsworth if ever I saw one, was engrossed in the racing pages of his newspaper. We spent quite a bit of time in the excellent church with great murals (inter alia listing all the vicars since 1129).

The Castle seemed to be a charged entry ruin, so we just peered over the wall and left. Getting back to the car, the jobsworth was no longer evident: I presume that he was either in the pub or, having made his selections, in the betting shop investing his day's take.

The reason we had come to this area was to visit Nunnington Hall, a National trust property. I rated it as OK, but rather run down. There were heaps of people there and I suspect we made a reduction in the average age! There was a nice display of photographs by a female singer who was performing there in the evening (and seemed to be a big deal, but I had never heard of her - and cannot now remember her name). The entry hall featured an array of endangered species mounted on the wall – I suppose that is why they are now endangered! The gardens were very interesting especially in the way the orchard was allowed to remain natural (apart from the fruit trees). They also featured some industria size compost bins, in a part of the garden accessible by backhoe.

There were other places to go so off to Ripon and Fountains Abbey. This included a descent of Sutton Bank (the Western edge of the Moors here) with all sorts of injunctions against taking caravans down it: it is always a good thing to ban caravans from anywhere but this road didn't seem unduly alarming.

Getting through Ripon was a challenge since it seemed to be the town that roadsigns forgot. (We did see a sign to the 'Dog Sanctuary at Catton.) However we got to Fountains Abbey (another National Trust site) eventually. It was a huge place and rather well set out. It was interesting that while the lawns were manicured, weeds were growing in the ruins which were the reason for the whole thing. Perhaps there is a NT rule that weeds make it look like a real ruin? A small church we found near the end of the walk – about 4 km if we hadn't wimped into the shuttle bus - was very elaborately decorated inside. A herd of deer were grazing nearby and provided many photo opportunities.

We then did a blat to Masham to visit breweries. Make that singular since Theakstons shut at 4:30. Ban Old Peculiar Ale! I certainly think it is peculiar for a beer outlet to close at that time. The Black Sheep Brewery was still open so I had a couple of halves of excellent beer (but not Riggwelter as we had too far to drive).

I might as well have had another few ales since the next village seems to have been where the sign-post ignorers practised their craft. We eventually found our way back to Stokesley where we had a meal and a couple more ales in the Spread Eagle . Quite a few people in the pub, many of them old ladies (ie females who looked about our age). They seemed to be in two classes: those who were drinking spirits and those who were drinking tea.

That is it for this day.

Trip Home

The check in and passage through security was quite about as painless as it was possible to be.   I am really quite impressed with that side of Manchester airport.  In fact I thought the place was pretty good all round.  One strange thing was the number of one-armed bandits (aka fruit machines in the US or poker machines in Australia) around the place.  Presumably concern about addiction to gambling hasn't spread to the UK yet.

The flight to Dubai took off on time and I spent a fair bit of it chatting to a 20 year old Mancunian sat next to me.  He had had an insurance policy mature and had deciding to spend it on a trip to Thailand, Vietnam and New Zealand.  He'd decide what to do for the rest of his life while on the way!  Very good luck to him!

Dubai airport was extremely crowded and the term 'cattle class' was very apparent as we were herded through various control points.  I suspect that the work of Temple Grandin on abattoir design could be applied with benefit to this. (As a parenthesis she consults for McDonalds, but about the abattoir end of their enterprise, not the Golden Arches part.)  It was interesting that the business and first class folk were kept in the same conditions, but roped off from the rest of us.  In fact they got the worst deal as they had to descend through the security bushwa like the rest and then, at the end of the process, get in a lift to go up to get in the top of the A380.

The aircraft itself was rather good.  We had a little more room than in the Boeing 777s used for our other flights and it was very quiet in the air.  In fact it was so quiet that Frances asked me if there had been an explanation why we were just sitting.  I explained that we had taken off half an hour earlier and were currently at 25,000 feet doing 580 miles per hour.

Despite that I couldn't seem to get solidly to sleep and felt quite ordinary as we got to Sydney.  However Immigration and Customs were dealt with as humanely as possible.  I then found it would cost an extra $5 to upgrade my hire car from a Corolla to a cruise control equipped Holden Kruse so we were on the road  in luxury (especially since the car had only got 4100kms on it.

Back to page to a very friendly greeting from the small dog who had had a lovely time staying with our friend Barbara and her corgi.  Thank you Barbara!!!   Out to the airport to transfer to Ingrid's car and to be chauffeured home.  Thank you Ingrid!!!  I lasted until 1pm and then fell into bed and slept until 5.  It is now the next day, after another 10 hours sleep and I merely feel poorly.  But that will pass and I will then get down to editing this blog - removing the more egregious typos, putting in the outstanding images and adding the summary pages,  Then wait for the book offers to flood in (remembering not to hold my breath during that process).