I was planning a post about national service for the near future however current affairs have overtaken me slightly. In the post I was planing on making a case for mandatory national service for school leavers for the dual purpose of developing social awareness and responsibility in young people while providing them with transferable skills. I was then going to say that this need not necessarily be military (although that should certainly be an option); instead it should be of some social benefit and should not necessarily be independent of the individual's career ambitions.
Fortunately the government seem to have beaten me to it (a bit) with proposed NHS reforms that they revealed today. At the moment I am agreeing with less and less of what the government does, despite being broadly Tory. I don't fully agree with the reforms as they have been suggested but they've taken a big step in the right direction.
As a bit of background, these reforms are being proposed as a consequence of widespread mistreatment of patients in a British NHS trust some years ago. Not only did this occur, but it was actively covered up.
One of the main reforms is the creation of a legal duty to disclose mistakes to patients and their families. To my mind, common human decency would dictate that this should happen as routine however those in the NHS seem to think differently. Perhaps they are above admitting they are wrong or don't believe they are capable of it. Seemingly patients dying are exclusively a mistake made by God rather than clinicians.
As a follow on, it has been suggested that a new criminal offence be created of concealing mistakes. Again, this makes perfect sense. In the real world, aiding and abetting is a crime in it's own right. Covering up a catastrophic mistake that has life-altering or life-ending consequences, in my mind, ranks alongside this. It would also strip over-inflated senior medics of their ability to bully junior staff into silence. We just need rigorous enforcement and an anonymous means of reporting errors.
One part of the report is a bit half-cocked is the suggestion that all potential nurses should have to spend a year as a healthcare assistant (a nurse in old money - somebody who has basic care such as hygiene and feeding as their top priority) before they can begin their training. To me this doesn't go far enough. It started as a good idea but I think it should also be extended to aspiring doctors too.
If this seems a bit extreme then let me expand the idea a little. Having started my tertiary education in medical school and spent most of my subsequent adult life surrounded by medics and latterly doctors I have spoken to lots of people who are allegedly at the cutting edge of healthcare. It's surprising how many have gone into it for reasons other than healing the sick. There are many other reasons why they have embarked on this career.High on the list of alternative reasons is the pushy parent who channels their offspring into medical school as a result of their own ambition and prejudice. The worst offenders in this category tend to be parents who are also doctors and seem incapable of understanding that their kids perhaps want to pursue other careers. Following on it's heels are the status seekers and the fragile egos who believe a medical career is a way of assuaging their massive inferiority complexes. I have encountered more of these that I ever want to. Time spent in their company generally serves to make one feel dirty, cheap and generally unpleasant. It's incredible how drunk people can become on their own (perceived) importance. Equal last are those that go into it for the intellectual challenge and those that just see the salaries. In a way I respect the honest of both of these categories but I still don't think their place is with people at their lowest. I believe that a year or so spent doing all the dirty, smelly, unpleasant jobs will quickly separate those with a genuine vocation from the above examples. In addition, it will give some additional maturity to those embarking on med-school and give them a chance to make a bit of money to fund the increasingly expensive business of tertiary education. I'm really struggling to think of any down-sides.
Hopefully, despite their shortcomings, these reforms will come into force soon. It would certainly give me considerably more faith in the health service than I have at the moment.
JR
Wednesday 27 March 2013
Tuesday 26 March 2013
Moonshine Whisky.
I have written before about my love of whisky; not just drinking it but the nostalgic imagery that surrounds and swaddles it. Hills, heathers and kilts. Fortunately for me (and the tourist trade) even the biggest and most modern distilleries can still accurately be described as quaint and picturesque.
As a whisky enthusiast I am often asked what my favourite whisky is. This is not an easy question as my favourite whisky depends rather a lot on the situation. For my hip flask then whatever is on special offer will do just fine. A cold winter night however will be better suited to a nice, peaty malt from Islay. However on a sunny summer afternoon I might instead opt for a lighter Speyside malt.
Amongst all of this is one constant. A lasting favourite is Edradour. This dram will satisfy me pretty much regardless of time of mood. As well as the dubious honour of being one of my favourite whiskies, Edradour is also the smallest legal distillery in Scotland. In terms of output, Edradour produces in a year what bigger distilleries produce in a week. Not just that. The distillery is little more than a collection of small farm buildings hiding in a glen at then end of an anonymous-looking farm track. Recently they have added a conference centre added to their repertoire but it is genuinely invisible from most parts of the distillery. Combine this with the stunning views it commands over the Highlands and you have a true hidden gem.
From the last few paragraphs you can probably tell that I've tasted my fair share of whiskies however there is one that has, so far, evaded my palette and one I would dearly love to try... moonshine whisky. Moonshine is whisky that has been produced illegally (in Britain, it is illegal to distil alcoholic spirits. This is to ensure that the tax man gets his cut). I love the idea of drinking whisky distilled on a small scale over and open fire in a glen somewhere; hidden from everywhere. Ideally it should then be aged in a barrel in the back of a shed or barn well away from prying eyes. Forgotten about for years while magic happens.
I am well aware of the potential for things to go horribly wrong. Almost inevitably, the products of hobbyists is unlikely to be of a similar standard to those produced by the professionals. If nothing else, any tweaks that are made will take years to mature before the effect can be judged (legally whisky can only be whisky after three years in an oak barrel. For it to be any good, it needs about eight). It takes literally generations to fine-tune a whisky.
Objective assessment aside, I still love the idea of the charm and mystery of trying a moonshine malt in somewhere secluded and combining my passion for drinking whisky with the distiller's passion for making (and presumably drinking) it.
I'm not going to lie, as well as the product of passion angle, sampling moonshine also appeals to my rebellious streak. The whisky that evaporates during the maturation process is known as the angel's share. I don't begrudge the angels a drop, especially since they smile on the distilleries and help produce one of the most magnificent drinks in the world. I do however grudge the tax man the enormous cut he takes of the whisky maker's profits. I understand the need for taxation and, on balance, am rather proud of being a taxpayer. However I object to this throttling of an industry I hold in great regard and and the placement of a product I love and want to share beyond the means of many.
Moonshine gets round this (albeit slightly illegally). The process of making whisky under the radar claims a little bit of our national drink back for Scottish nationals. As well as providing a hearty drink, it caters to the innately subversive nature of most Scots and for that it should be respected.
Now, anyone know of anywhere I can begin looking for an illicit still?
JR
As a whisky enthusiast I am often asked what my favourite whisky is. This is not an easy question as my favourite whisky depends rather a lot on the situation. For my hip flask then whatever is on special offer will do just fine. A cold winter night however will be better suited to a nice, peaty malt from Islay. However on a sunny summer afternoon I might instead opt for a lighter Speyside malt.
Amongst all of this is one constant. A lasting favourite is Edradour. This dram will satisfy me pretty much regardless of time of mood. As well as the dubious honour of being one of my favourite whiskies, Edradour is also the smallest legal distillery in Scotland. In terms of output, Edradour produces in a year what bigger distilleries produce in a week. Not just that. The distillery is little more than a collection of small farm buildings hiding in a glen at then end of an anonymous-looking farm track. Recently they have added a conference centre added to their repertoire but it is genuinely invisible from most parts of the distillery. Combine this with the stunning views it commands over the Highlands and you have a true hidden gem.
From the last few paragraphs you can probably tell that I've tasted my fair share of whiskies however there is one that has, so far, evaded my palette and one I would dearly love to try... moonshine whisky. Moonshine is whisky that has been produced illegally (in Britain, it is illegal to distil alcoholic spirits. This is to ensure that the tax man gets his cut). I love the idea of drinking whisky distilled on a small scale over and open fire in a glen somewhere; hidden from everywhere. Ideally it should then be aged in a barrel in the back of a shed or barn well away from prying eyes. Forgotten about for years while magic happens.
I am well aware of the potential for things to go horribly wrong. Almost inevitably, the products of hobbyists is unlikely to be of a similar standard to those produced by the professionals. If nothing else, any tweaks that are made will take years to mature before the effect can be judged (legally whisky can only be whisky after three years in an oak barrel. For it to be any good, it needs about eight). It takes literally generations to fine-tune a whisky.
Objective assessment aside, I still love the idea of the charm and mystery of trying a moonshine malt in somewhere secluded and combining my passion for drinking whisky with the distiller's passion for making (and presumably drinking) it.
I'm not going to lie, as well as the product of passion angle, sampling moonshine also appeals to my rebellious streak. The whisky that evaporates during the maturation process is known as the angel's share. I don't begrudge the angels a drop, especially since they smile on the distilleries and help produce one of the most magnificent drinks in the world. I do however grudge the tax man the enormous cut he takes of the whisky maker's profits. I understand the need for taxation and, on balance, am rather proud of being a taxpayer. However I object to this throttling of an industry I hold in great regard and and the placement of a product I love and want to share beyond the means of many.
Moonshine gets round this (albeit slightly illegally). The process of making whisky under the radar claims a little bit of our national drink back for Scottish nationals. As well as providing a hearty drink, it caters to the innately subversive nature of most Scots and for that it should be respected.
Now, anyone know of anywhere I can begin looking for an illicit still?
JR
Friday 22 March 2013
Paddy Ashdown and the Cockle Shell Heroes
Last night I went to see Paddy Ashdown give a talk on his latest book, "A Brilliant Little Operation" - the subject of which was a group of Royal Marine commandos. Their exploits were made famous by the film, "The Cockleshell Heroes".
The story, if you're not familiar with it, relates to a team of World War 2 commandos who canoed behind enemy lines into occupied France (down the river Garonne) in order to destroy the ships that were supplying the German war machine. The raid was as daring as it was audacious - even the commanding officer admitted that it would be impossible to repeat. (I'm aware I'm using lots of parenthetical clauses here but bear with me...). After sustaining huge losses (only two survived from an original group of 12) several of the German ships were damaged. Although they were repaired, the actions of this group of men caused the Germans to direct significant portions of their resources to defending the port of Bordeaux making the war effort on other fronts more achievable.
Subsequently the technique of canoeing behind enemy lines had been used and used frequently but these men were the first. The trailblazers. Their exploits were largely unsung during the war for operational security reasons and after the war, the details were poorly publicised. Ashdown is aiming to rectify this by writing about the operation and the characters involved and it was on this piece that he was talking.
For those of you that haven't heard of Paddy Ashdown, now would be a good time to mention that he is a politician and has spent many years serving in both houses of the British Government. It is therefore a fair assumption that he will be a seasoned public speaker. Despite this, it is worth mentioning that his presentation was excellent. The man talks very well and covers a lot of detailed information quickly and fluently. He is passionate about the subject and this shines through as he takes us through the operation.
More pertinently, Ashdown is also a former officer in the Special Boat Service - an elite Royal Navy unit that owes some of it's heritage and tactics to Goldie Hasler and his men. During the talk, he includes anecdotes and stories from his own military service and operations he has been on which required similar techniques and equipment. This personal touch adds depth to the story and his descriptions of the difficulty involved in canoe based operations. These serve to highlight the truly remarkable achievements of this team.
A particularly poignant moment came when Ashdown read from the last letters of the troops that didn't make it home. Despite the fact he has inevitably read them many times before, he was still visibly moved as were the audience.
The talk concluded with a question and answer session although it was truncated due to time constraints. Ashdown showed a tremendous depth of subject knowledge and enthusiasm for talking about it. This wasn't just an ex-politician cashing in on his public persona in order to sell a few books. This was someone with a genuine passion for the subject and a connection to the history he studied and the gift of being able to communicate.
JR
Sunday 17 March 2013
Home Brew
I'm now a brewer. I say that with more than a small amount of pride. This is because I love beer, I have done for years; arguably since before I actually liked beer. For those of you that don't have a clue what I mean; teenage lads in Britain drink pints (or at least try to). From about the age of 14 onwards, one tries to sneak into the pub or snaffle a can/bottle of your dad's beer and have a pint. It's something of a right of passage, a mark of manhood. However, if you ask most beer drinkers to be genuinely honest, they will admit that beer is an acquired taste. Give them a few pints and they will probably open up and say that they initially found beer horrible and their first pint was an absolute mission to finish (but they did for form's sake). I can certainly attest to the fact that, in my case, I had to work hard to get my taste for beer.
Once I got the taste however, I was off. Fortunately I got past the cat's piss lager stage fairly quickly. A Stella-induced hangover (and a couple of incidents of the world falling over after a few pints) served to put me off a bit. More pertinently, I had heard that girls liked sophisticated guys and as a teenage boy I was forever coming up with schemes to get girls. I became that guy who ordered Guinness in the pub in the mistaken belief that different was synonymous with sophisticated. It didn't stop me being as much of an oaf after a few though so I guess the scheme wasn't all that clever. I still retain a lasting affection for Guinness though and it opened my eyes to a novel concept; beer with flavour.
When I got to Uni my taste broadened to include my true passion when it comes to beer; real ale. I love the rich flavours, the regional varieties, the amusing names and the fact that it was cheaper than any of the decent lagers at the union bar. The hand pumps and the elaborate labels that real ale comes out of in the pub also attracted me to them. It was just so much more mysterious and exciting than a pint of piss.
For the last eight or so years I have sampled many, many ales from all over the country (and some rather good ones brewed in the British style on foreign shores). I will admit my knowledge of it hasn't expanded too much. Generally when asked how I like my beer, I would answer, "plentiful". I know which beers I liked and which ones I didn't like although I never really expanded my vocabulary and knowledge sufficiently to describe why it was that I liked them or properly explore the flavours in my mind.
However I love playing with flavours and in the kitchen and have always fancied having a go at making my own beer. Not to mention the fact that doing so would save a pile of cash and deny the treasury their bounty for my passion. This opportunity was made available to me when I got a home brewing kit for my birthday recently.
Despite being fundamentally impatient in nature I decided to do this properly. Firstly I did a lot of research about beer; the making of it, the ingredients and ways that flavour can be altered and developed. Admittedly some of this was due to the fact that there was a gap between being told I was getting the kit and actually receiving it. Researching was a way of building anticipation and excitement. Being a scientist at heart I have also started keeping a detailed journal to record my research and keep notes about the process ensuring that I can control the variables to the best of my ability and, ultimately, tweak the final product.
After all the research and anticipation, my first brew is now complete. I have to say, I'm rather pleased with it. It tastes of beer! Albeit not the best pint I've ever had but far from the worst either. It also has a rather pleasing fizz, the technique for which was picked up from a fascinating conversation I had at the local home-brew shop. Unfortunately I can't take all the credit for it. The kit in question included a pre-made mixture of malt that water and yeast was added to. My visions of delicately combining ingredients to produce a beer that is unique to me hasn't come to fruition yet. Admittedly there are some advantages; the whole process is far quicker than starting from scratch. Also, raw ingredients are actually quite hard to come by so this is the only viable large-scale option.
Some further research has revealed ways of tweaking these home-brew kits to make them more personal and enhance the flavours. In the future, I'm looking forward to nailing a recipe and process that will create the ultimate beer for me. In the mean time, I'm off for a pint!
JR
Once I got the taste however, I was off. Fortunately I got past the cat's piss lager stage fairly quickly. A Stella-induced hangover (and a couple of incidents of the world falling over after a few pints) served to put me off a bit. More pertinently, I had heard that girls liked sophisticated guys and as a teenage boy I was forever coming up with schemes to get girls. I became that guy who ordered Guinness in the pub in the mistaken belief that different was synonymous with sophisticated. It didn't stop me being as much of an oaf after a few though so I guess the scheme wasn't all that clever. I still retain a lasting affection for Guinness though and it opened my eyes to a novel concept; beer with flavour.
When I got to Uni my taste broadened to include my true passion when it comes to beer; real ale. I love the rich flavours, the regional varieties, the amusing names and the fact that it was cheaper than any of the decent lagers at the union bar. The hand pumps and the elaborate labels that real ale comes out of in the pub also attracted me to them. It was just so much more mysterious and exciting than a pint of piss.
For the last eight or so years I have sampled many, many ales from all over the country (and some rather good ones brewed in the British style on foreign shores). I will admit my knowledge of it hasn't expanded too much. Generally when asked how I like my beer, I would answer, "plentiful". I know which beers I liked and which ones I didn't like although I never really expanded my vocabulary and knowledge sufficiently to describe why it was that I liked them or properly explore the flavours in my mind.
However I love playing with flavours and in the kitchen and have always fancied having a go at making my own beer. Not to mention the fact that doing so would save a pile of cash and deny the treasury their bounty for my passion. This opportunity was made available to me when I got a home brewing kit for my birthday recently.
Despite being fundamentally impatient in nature I decided to do this properly. Firstly I did a lot of research about beer; the making of it, the ingredients and ways that flavour can be altered and developed. Admittedly some of this was due to the fact that there was a gap between being told I was getting the kit and actually receiving it. Researching was a way of building anticipation and excitement. Being a scientist at heart I have also started keeping a detailed journal to record my research and keep notes about the process ensuring that I can control the variables to the best of my ability and, ultimately, tweak the final product.
After all the research and anticipation, my first brew is now complete. I have to say, I'm rather pleased with it. It tastes of beer! Albeit not the best pint I've ever had but far from the worst either. It also has a rather pleasing fizz, the technique for which was picked up from a fascinating conversation I had at the local home-brew shop. Unfortunately I can't take all the credit for it. The kit in question included a pre-made mixture of malt that water and yeast was added to. My visions of delicately combining ingredients to produce a beer that is unique to me hasn't come to fruition yet. Admittedly there are some advantages; the whole process is far quicker than starting from scratch. Also, raw ingredients are actually quite hard to come by so this is the only viable large-scale option.
Some further research has revealed ways of tweaking these home-brew kits to make them more personal and enhance the flavours. In the future, I'm looking forward to nailing a recipe and process that will create the ultimate beer for me. In the mean time, I'm off for a pint!
JR
Saturday 9 March 2013
Journalists v Bloggers
What's the difference between a blogger and a journalist/critic (and no this isn't the beginning to one of the world's most tedious jokes)? This question is one that has featured in my life a couple of times in the last week. First I read an article in the paper by a journalist and critic trying to distinguish between the two. A few days later a whole chapter of the book I'm reading was dedicated to differentiating between food bloggers and restaurant critics. So what is the difference?
Well the most obvious difference is that journalists (and for the time being, read "journalists" as critics two since they are fairly similar for the purposes of this debate) get paid for their work and bloggers don't. Except that's not quite true. It is possible to make money from blogs. Equally lots of journalists, especially those starting out, work for free. Another way to define it could be that journalists generally work for organisations whereas bloggers don't. However freelance journalists knock out this argument. Although they sell their stories to bigger organisations, they work for themselves.
Now let's get a bit more subtle. First let's remove publishing medium from the equation since blogs exist exclusively on the internet. An obvious difference, to me at least, is that journalists have to abide by a code of conduct and professional ethics and have probably had training in this. Bloggers don't. Beyond the laws of the country governing things like defamation, what I write is essentially unregulated (let's forget what's going on in the British press for the time being). This doesn't mean that bloggers disregard truth and reliable information. I know that when I write something I claim to be true I like to be able to back it up (even if I don't explicitly do so) and try to highlight any opinions expressed as such. I'm sure many other bloggers do as well, my point is that we do this voluntarily rather than have it forced upon us.
Another distinguishing feature of journalists (broadly speaking) is their use of language. Words are their business and they need to be able to use them well. That's not to say that bloggers can't use English but there is inevitably a difference between those who write all day for a living and those that do it in their spare time. It's similar to a keen amateur cook taking on a professional chef. The regularity with which the respective skills are used comes into play on both counts. In my job, I can get by on a vocabulary of at most a couple of hundred words. This means my linguistic dexterity is not taxed as much or as often as someone who writes for a living.
So for a quick recap, we have established that journalist are paid for their work, are governed by a professional code of ethics and have an ability with language sufficient to make what they write worth paying to read.
Now let's have a look at the sub-division of journalism; critics. Surely it's more accessible because it's just venturing opinions and everyone has opinions don't they? Well yes. But, as always, it's not quite that simple. The newspaper article I read argues that critics are marked out by their high level of subject knowledge and extensive experience of their chosen area. A good example of this came from a passage in Giles Coren's book 'How to Eat Out'. As a reasonable person on a tolerable income I eat out about once a month. When I do, it's generally pub grub or a low level restaurant. Mr Coren (restaurant critic for the Times) however will eat out around twice a day most days. Who therefore has greater experience of eating out? Similarly a car critic will get to try a new car every week or two. Now compare that to me; in 10 years of driving I can pretty much list every car I've ever driven. This means that any opinion I express is perfectly valid as my opinion and may well be interesting and informative depending on what you're looking for but that of a professional critic is likely to be more helpful when deciding where to eat, what kind of car to get, what to go and see at the cinema, etc.
The level of experience is a bit of a double edge sword. On one hand, the professional critic will be so used to their subject matter that they can concentrate on important (though not necessarily obvious) details that others may fail to spot. On the other, it may lead to them treating with blaze indifference things that would blow anybody else's socks off. In all this we must also bear in mind that opinions, regardless of how well informed, are still essentially subjective and you may not agree with the reviewer.
Typically I have polarized the issue between two extremes. Simplistically, a journalist is someone who is paid to report and/or form opinions. They do this full time with regulated levels of behaviour and attitudes and in conjunction with a degree of base knowledge and experience that is probably not as readily available to the average man on the street. Bloggers generally write in their spare time based on more limited personal experience.
Is one worth more than the other? On the face of it, yes since people are prepared to pay for the work of journalists (excluding free content on line). Journalists are certainly the people you go to if you want representations of fact that can be backed up or opinions that are based on extensive experience however, if you want to interrogate a subject further and you're prepared to expend a bit of effort thinking critically about the source, then I would argue blogs have a place too.
JR
Well the most obvious difference is that journalists (and for the time being, read "journalists" as critics two since they are fairly similar for the purposes of this debate) get paid for their work and bloggers don't. Except that's not quite true. It is possible to make money from blogs. Equally lots of journalists, especially those starting out, work for free. Another way to define it could be that journalists generally work for organisations whereas bloggers don't. However freelance journalists knock out this argument. Although they sell their stories to bigger organisations, they work for themselves.
Now let's get a bit more subtle. First let's remove publishing medium from the equation since blogs exist exclusively on the internet. An obvious difference, to me at least, is that journalists have to abide by a code of conduct and professional ethics and have probably had training in this. Bloggers don't. Beyond the laws of the country governing things like defamation, what I write is essentially unregulated (let's forget what's going on in the British press for the time being). This doesn't mean that bloggers disregard truth and reliable information. I know that when I write something I claim to be true I like to be able to back it up (even if I don't explicitly do so) and try to highlight any opinions expressed as such. I'm sure many other bloggers do as well, my point is that we do this voluntarily rather than have it forced upon us.
Another distinguishing feature of journalists (broadly speaking) is their use of language. Words are their business and they need to be able to use them well. That's not to say that bloggers can't use English but there is inevitably a difference between those who write all day for a living and those that do it in their spare time. It's similar to a keen amateur cook taking on a professional chef. The regularity with which the respective skills are used comes into play on both counts. In my job, I can get by on a vocabulary of at most a couple of hundred words. This means my linguistic dexterity is not taxed as much or as often as someone who writes for a living.
So for a quick recap, we have established that journalist are paid for their work, are governed by a professional code of ethics and have an ability with language sufficient to make what they write worth paying to read.
Now let's have a look at the sub-division of journalism; critics. Surely it's more accessible because it's just venturing opinions and everyone has opinions don't they? Well yes. But, as always, it's not quite that simple. The newspaper article I read argues that critics are marked out by their high level of subject knowledge and extensive experience of their chosen area. A good example of this came from a passage in Giles Coren's book 'How to Eat Out'. As a reasonable person on a tolerable income I eat out about once a month. When I do, it's generally pub grub or a low level restaurant. Mr Coren (restaurant critic for the Times) however will eat out around twice a day most days. Who therefore has greater experience of eating out? Similarly a car critic will get to try a new car every week or two. Now compare that to me; in 10 years of driving I can pretty much list every car I've ever driven. This means that any opinion I express is perfectly valid as my opinion and may well be interesting and informative depending on what you're looking for but that of a professional critic is likely to be more helpful when deciding where to eat, what kind of car to get, what to go and see at the cinema, etc.
The level of experience is a bit of a double edge sword. On one hand, the professional critic will be so used to their subject matter that they can concentrate on important (though not necessarily obvious) details that others may fail to spot. On the other, it may lead to them treating with blaze indifference things that would blow anybody else's socks off. In all this we must also bear in mind that opinions, regardless of how well informed, are still essentially subjective and you may not agree with the reviewer.
Typically I have polarized the issue between two extremes. Simplistically, a journalist is someone who is paid to report and/or form opinions. They do this full time with regulated levels of behaviour and attitudes and in conjunction with a degree of base knowledge and experience that is probably not as readily available to the average man on the street. Bloggers generally write in their spare time based on more limited personal experience.
Is one worth more than the other? On the face of it, yes since people are prepared to pay for the work of journalists (excluding free content on line). Journalists are certainly the people you go to if you want representations of fact that can be backed up or opinions that are based on extensive experience however, if you want to interrogate a subject further and you're prepared to expend a bit of effort thinking critically about the source, then I would argue blogs have a place too.
JR
Tuesday 5 March 2013
Fountain Pen Ink
Warning: This is an extremely geeky post (as the title suggests) so if you're not into pens, this might be of limited interest.
Having written before about my love of fountain pens, you will know that I appreciate the novelty of filling a pen from a bottle rather than clipping in an ink cartridge. This injects a new level of choice and complexity into the writing process; namely which ink to use.
My standard day-to-day ink (the stuff that lives in my drawer at work) is Parker Quink black. I use this black ink for work so my writing can be photocopied if needs be and so I can use my fountain pen in almost any circumstance (some official paper work can only be filled out in black ink). I also happen to think that black ink on white or off-white paper looks neater and clearer than blue ink. Parker ink has a nice rich colour and is fairly viscous making it well suited for most pens and papers. It also makes my writing feel smooth and free-flowing. Another advantage to Quink is it's near universal availability. It is sold in almost every high street stationers so in the (unlikely) event unexpectedly running out, it is easy to get hold of more. Finally, it's cheap. Although I mainly use this ink for work, sadly they have not yet offered to pay for it (instead they supply dreadful disposable biros). Since I'm not paid a salary that would make most professional footballers blush, I don't want to have to spend more than necessary on office consumables.
My other bottle of black ink is a cross one. Originally it was bought to go with my Cross pen (sucker I know) but I genuinely think it's high-quality ink hence the bottles being replaced when empty. This ink is thicker still giving a beautifully smooth feeling on the paper and a nice, rich appearance. Looking back at old Uni notes, this ink doesn't particularly fade either which is always a plus.
I also have a couple of bottles of Sheaffer ink; one red and one green to be precise. I bought the red one to go with my Sheaffer pen for the purpose of annotating documents. It doesn't get used regularly now because a) I rarely have cause to annotate documents these days and b) because I always think writing with red ink shows a bit of a teacher complex (unless, of course, you're a teacher)! The green ink was mainly bought for my girlfriend who has recently taken up calligraphy. I have used it a couple of times but as I don't really like the colour, I don't think I'll be using it a lot. With both colours, the ink seems a bit on the thin side making the nib feel scratchy on the page. It also means that the colour lacks the intensity I like - it all seems a bit watered down. I'm not sure if this is to allow the colours to show through and not appear a uniform, sludgy, black or if it is a feature of Sheaffer ink. A bottle of black Sheaffer ink I had many years ago was similar I seem to remember so perhaps it's the latter.
This post was prompted by the fact I received a new pen as a gift recently. Due to it's sentimental and monetary value, it is going nowhere near my workplace lest it get stolen or damaged. Because of this, I thought I would indulge my eccentric side and get an unusual, quirky colour. There is quite a tradition of this. Captain Mansfield Cumming (founder of MI6) used emerald green ink, a tradition that is carried on by all subsequent heads of MI6. This transposed into fiction where James Bond's boss M also used green ink. That said, there is some evidence to suggest that this choice was more than mere eccentricity; the colour used also denoted seniority.
However choosing a colour wasn't that straight forward. First of all, it can't bee too girly so that's pinks, purples and most of the lighter shades out. The same are excluded by the fact that it can't be too garish. Although most of what I write is for my own personal consumption, I do intend to use it for personal correspondence so I don't want it to appear too childish. Therefore out go the lighter, brighter shades. Finally, I don't want it to clash with the paper I habitually use; either the white stuff of the deep cream stuff. I did toy with the idea of another bottle of green ink but I don't want to look like I'm playing copycat to M/C. Nor do I want to be seen as a member of the infamous, "Green ink brigade". As a final nail in the coffin; green ink is fairly available in horrible disposable biros and I wanted to go for something unique.
Eventually I settled on a bottle of Diamini ink (chosen for the price, range of colours and the rave reviews it received on line; not to mention the rather splendid bottles). The colour I went for is Oxblood or reddish brown to those who don't speak spectrum. It looks like something that will go with everything I write on and with. Having received it, I am gratified to say that the ink has a fantastically rich and intense colour and flows beautifully. So far I have only tried it in my Parker 51 but the results are stunning. The ink is nice and thick so the nib feels lubricated on the paper and the line is solid and unbroken.
So there you go, a whirlwind tour of the intricacies of ink (and yes I did write this out long-hand with the new stuff to try it out!)
JR
Having written before about my love of fountain pens, you will know that I appreciate the novelty of filling a pen from a bottle rather than clipping in an ink cartridge. This injects a new level of choice and complexity into the writing process; namely which ink to use.
My standard day-to-day ink (the stuff that lives in my drawer at work) is Parker Quink black. I use this black ink for work so my writing can be photocopied if needs be and so I can use my fountain pen in almost any circumstance (some official paper work can only be filled out in black ink). I also happen to think that black ink on white or off-white paper looks neater and clearer than blue ink. Parker ink has a nice rich colour and is fairly viscous making it well suited for most pens and papers. It also makes my writing feel smooth and free-flowing. Another advantage to Quink is it's near universal availability. It is sold in almost every high street stationers so in the (unlikely) event unexpectedly running out, it is easy to get hold of more. Finally, it's cheap. Although I mainly use this ink for work, sadly they have not yet offered to pay for it (instead they supply dreadful disposable biros). Since I'm not paid a salary that would make most professional footballers blush, I don't want to have to spend more than necessary on office consumables.
My other bottle of black ink is a cross one. Originally it was bought to go with my Cross pen (sucker I know) but I genuinely think it's high-quality ink hence the bottles being replaced when empty. This ink is thicker still giving a beautifully smooth feeling on the paper and a nice, rich appearance. Looking back at old Uni notes, this ink doesn't particularly fade either which is always a plus.
I also have a couple of bottles of Sheaffer ink; one red and one green to be precise. I bought the red one to go with my Sheaffer pen for the purpose of annotating documents. It doesn't get used regularly now because a) I rarely have cause to annotate documents these days and b) because I always think writing with red ink shows a bit of a teacher complex (unless, of course, you're a teacher)! The green ink was mainly bought for my girlfriend who has recently taken up calligraphy. I have used it a couple of times but as I don't really like the colour, I don't think I'll be using it a lot. With both colours, the ink seems a bit on the thin side making the nib feel scratchy on the page. It also means that the colour lacks the intensity I like - it all seems a bit watered down. I'm not sure if this is to allow the colours to show through and not appear a uniform, sludgy, black or if it is a feature of Sheaffer ink. A bottle of black Sheaffer ink I had many years ago was similar I seem to remember so perhaps it's the latter.
This post was prompted by the fact I received a new pen as a gift recently. Due to it's sentimental and monetary value, it is going nowhere near my workplace lest it get stolen or damaged. Because of this, I thought I would indulge my eccentric side and get an unusual, quirky colour. There is quite a tradition of this. Captain Mansfield Cumming (founder of MI6) used emerald green ink, a tradition that is carried on by all subsequent heads of MI6. This transposed into fiction where James Bond's boss M also used green ink. That said, there is some evidence to suggest that this choice was more than mere eccentricity; the colour used also denoted seniority.
However choosing a colour wasn't that straight forward. First of all, it can't bee too girly so that's pinks, purples and most of the lighter shades out. The same are excluded by the fact that it can't be too garish. Although most of what I write is for my own personal consumption, I do intend to use it for personal correspondence so I don't want it to appear too childish. Therefore out go the lighter, brighter shades. Finally, I don't want it to clash with the paper I habitually use; either the white stuff of the deep cream stuff. I did toy with the idea of another bottle of green ink but I don't want to look like I'm playing copycat to M/C. Nor do I want to be seen as a member of the infamous, "Green ink brigade". As a final nail in the coffin; green ink is fairly available in horrible disposable biros and I wanted to go for something unique.
Eventually I settled on a bottle of Diamini ink (chosen for the price, range of colours and the rave reviews it received on line; not to mention the rather splendid bottles). The colour I went for is Oxblood or reddish brown to those who don't speak spectrum. It looks like something that will go with everything I write on and with. Having received it, I am gratified to say that the ink has a fantastically rich and intense colour and flows beautifully. So far I have only tried it in my Parker 51 but the results are stunning. The ink is nice and thick so the nib feels lubricated on the paper and the line is solid and unbroken.
So there you go, a whirlwind tour of the intricacies of ink (and yes I did write this out long-hand with the new stuff to try it out!)
JR
Saturday 2 March 2013
The Nut Tree
It was my birthday last week. To celebrate the occasion, my girlfriend took me to The Nut Tree: a one Michelin star gastro-pub just outside of Oxford. Now when I say just outside Oxford, I mean only around six miles out of the town centre. Unfortunately there was no direct route and the roads to get us there were mainly small and winding country roads. Owing to a slightly optimistic estimate of when I would finish work, we found ourselves a bit pushed for time resulting in a bit of a mad dash - me flogging an underpowered hatchback, my girlfriend calling out instructions like a rally co-driver. Fortunately our sat-nav got us there in decent time; overheard conversations from others suggest that their companions weren't as lucky.
The drive was worth it with interest. As promised on the website, the exterior was utterly picturesque; thatched roof, duck pond (with a duck house that MPs would be proud of) and a well-tended garden. Round the back was a huge car park with a fish pond and some exterior seating.
Walking up to the door, we received a warm welcome from the lady of the establishment. For a bit of background; a few years ago a young, local, couple bought the pub having dreamed of owning it for years. This is one of the many details that I like; there's a romance to it and it gave the whole atmosphere an air of warmth.
The inside was beautiful: log fires burned gently giving the whole place a cosy feeling (and a beautiful smell). The ceiling had lovely exposed beams and the bar was well stocked with a homely and welcoming look. Best of all there were a couple of large Chesterfield sofas and huge button-leather armchairs accompanying them. It was like a large living room. Despite the fact that we arrived a few minutes after our stated booking time (even with my best attempt at a Stig impression) we weren't rushed to a table. Instead we were eased into the big armchairs and given time to peruse the menu at our leisure with a drink.
Before I re-tell the evening further, it is worth taking a second to commend The Nut Tree on it's sense of balance. I have written before about my scepticism about the concept of gastro-pubs. Usually they tend to be either attempted restaurants with an overly prominent bars or pubs with an overly ambitious chef. This place is neither. While the majority of floor space is given over to eating, there was plenty space for those who fancied just coming in for a drink. In fact, a group of local builders appeared to be doing just that; testament to the fact that everybody was welcome. This was let down slightly (but only slightly) by the fact that the only food available was the fine-dining menu. There was nothing to cater for the hunger generated by a couple of post-work pints. However I can forgive it that. There was also a well stocked cigar humidor which I thought was a nice touch.
The main dining room is a modern extension to the original building. It managed to retain the feeling of the tap room while also being light and airy. I particularly liked the well-thumbed cookery books adorning the window sills.
Our starters came nice and quickly. I had raw a large slab of Scottish smoked salmon with a horseradish cream and caviare. It was delicious. The salmon had a wonderful flavour and an amazing texture, the horseradish was lovely and creamy with just the right of heat and acidity and it all went beautifully well together in the mouth. If I'm being brutal, I can't really see the point in the caviare; it didn't add much to the dish beyond a layer of decadence (and for that it can be commended; well it was my birthday).
My main course was pigeon with foie gras, curly kale and mashed potatoes. The pigeon was beautifully cooked with a fabulous flavour and an even better texture complimented by the meltingly-soft foie gras which added a further layer of richness and intensity of flavour. The sauce which accompanied it was more than delicious too and the mashed potatoes were light, fluffy and tasty. Overall the dish was fantastic but it was let down a bit by the curly Kale which created an unappetising green sludge on the plate. It didn't ruin the dish but it was a pointless addition in my opinion.
Predictably, I opted for the cheese board which had an impressive array of cheeses from around the country. I liked the way they were arranged from lowest to highest strength and included goat's cheeses as well as cow's cheese. There were also plenty of biscuits to go with it so I wasn't left feeling short-changed with a pile of cheese on my plate. As always there was a lump of quince jelly on the plate along with lumps of random fruit. I really don't see the point in this; it distracts from the flavour of cheese but it's usually separate from the cheese so can be left separate easily enough.
Despite my minor moans in the previous paragraph, I would say the whole experience was wonderful. I have already commented on the atmosphere. This was aided by the staff who were professional and efficient. As I have already said, the female half of the management was charming and outgoing making us feel totally welcome. The food too was magnificent; tasty and beautifully cooked. Presentation-wise it looked elegant on the plate without being fussy. There were also decent portion sizes which is a must in my case.
Over all it was a lovely evening. The only thing needed to make it unquestionably perfect was a big soppy labrador meandering around and making friends with people. It was just that sort of pub.
JR
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