qatsi | Entries tagged with europe

We agreed last year, that this year we would holiday in northern Europe, ideally in a location reachable by Eurostar. So it was inevitable that instead we would spend a week in Malta.

Monday 2nd: Our flight departs from Heathrow Terminal 4. We arrive at our usual parking provider, only to be told we have in fact booked the "Meet and Greet" service, and need to go to the terminal instead. Fortunately we have allowed plenty of time. I feel they could have accepted the car there anyway, as it is probably stored in the same place for the week. I always find Heathrow a bit of a nightmare, but once we are through security everything progresses smoothly. It is a 3 1/2 hour flight. The first bus from the airport terminal is already pretty full and we can't get on, not helped by another bus occupying the expected space and a French party usurping any semblance of a queue. Anyhow, once we arrive in Valetta it's fairly straightforward to find our hotel - just as well, given the heat and humidity. We explore a little of Valetta, including the Upper and Lower Barrakka gardens. There seem to be a plethora of commemorative stones erected by military colleagues to the fallen over the centuries, and more recent memorials expressing solidarity with the people of the Hungarian and Czechoslovakian uprisings in the 1950s and 1960s.

The Grand Harbour from Valetta

Tuesday 3rd: We begin at St John's Co-Cathedral. For some time there is concern about R's camera lens; it turns out that the contrast between the aggressive air conditioning in the hotel and the ambient conditions has caused some condensation, which take a while to clear. We move on to the Grand Master's Palace, and then the National Library. In the afternoon we visit the National Community Art Museum, which turns out to be larger and more impressive than might be expected. There are echoes of futurism and/or fascism in some of Antonio Sciortino's sculptures inspired by Charles Lindbergh. In contrast, the Archaeological museum is larger on the map and although interesting, it takes less time.

Futurism at MUZA, Valetta

Wednesday 4th: We take a trip on the fast ferry to Gozo. The Internet was not entirely clear about this, as vehicle ferry services were more prominent and require pre-booking, but the passenger ferry was quite straightforward. We visit the cathedral and citadella museums in the complex at Victoria / Rabat.

Cathedral and Citadella complex at Victoria / Rabat, Gozo

Thursday 5th: We take the bus to Mdina / Rabat. The Domus Romana is just across the road from the bus stop, and it's our first encounter with Sir Themisocles Zammit, surely a name one could not make up. It's not a huge site, but it is interesting nonetheless. We move on to St Paul's Catacombs, Cathedral, Palazzo Falson, Casa Gourgion (an interesting museum although I can't do justice to the animated TV screens in Old Master picture frames), and the Wignacourt Museum.

Mosaic at the Domus Romana, Mdina / Rabat

Boat in St Paul's Catacombs, Rabat

Friday 6th: The St Catherine's Monastery and Garden is a calm place to start the day. Later we're using the buses again, first to Mosta for the Rotunda, based on the Pantheon, and in the afternoon to the temples at Tarxien. Finally, with advance planning we have tickets to visit the Ħal Saflieni Hypogeum at the end of the day. The audio guide is mandatory and has some irritating sound effects, but it doesn't detract from the visit, and has the honesty to say that we just don't know a lot of what went on at these truly ancient remains.

Mosta Rotunda

Tarxien Temples

7th: We begin our final day with the ferry to the Three Cities. In practice we have noticed that all of Malta is pretty much a continuum of settlement, and the naming is somewhat arbitrary. We visit the Inquisitor's Museum and admire the view across the Grand Harbour in the reverse direction, to Valetta. On our return we take in Casa Rocca Piccola. Ramiro Calì's painting Electricity fuses ancient and modern in its own curious way.

Valetta from The Three Cities

Electricity

Then it's back to the airport, and the return flight is straightforward, and although there is heavy traffic at Terminal 4 we're home at a civilised hour. Overnight the thunder in the UK reminds me of the regular gun battery firing in Valetta.

The Maltese were friendly and helpful; perhaps an advantage of English being an official language. The food was always served in generous portions - the quality varied but Aaron's Kitchen and Ambrosia were both particularly good. We discovered Kinnie and - by extension - Kinnie Spritz. If we had stayed longer, there were other things we could have done, but the heat and humidity really did discourage over-exertion.

Book Review: The Baltic Story - A Thousand Year History of its Lands, Seas and Peoples, by Caroline Boggis-Rolfe
Unusually, I stumbled upon this randomly in Waterstone's and decided to indulge my curiosity. We've visited a few places on or around the Baltic over the years, and I hoped this might stitch some things together. I think it succeeded in that.

In the introduction, Boggis-Rolfe announces that the flow will be more or less chronological, and that each chapter will be self-contained, so there may be some repetition when reading from end to end. This was true, but it wasn't irritating, as it had been called out earlier. She begins with a brief overview of the Hanseatic League, but most of the book focuses on the various royal households, their shifting allegiances, skirmishes and borders over the years. Initially, Poland and Denmark were the major powers in the region, later usurped by Sweden and Russia, and later still by Prussia. England would often come to the aid of one or other country - it felt like never the same one twice, perfidious Albion indeed - and Napoleon stormed through most of the region, only then to be beaten all the way back. (In a bizarre sub-plot, one of his generals began the Bernadotte ruling dynasty of Sweden, arguably more successful in the long term than Bonaparte himself.) Norway and Finland changed hands between their more belligerent neighbours, and for a time Poland vanished off the map altogether. Among the lesser-known conflicts, I am now better acquainted with the Lingonberry War; and whilst I claim no expertise, I gained a bit of background on the Schleswig-Holstein question.

After some debate and negotiation, we decided on Seville for a summer holiday location this year. The late positioning of the Max Richter Prom was awkward for scheduling, but frankly going to southern Europe earlier in the summer would have been madness.

Thurs 7th: After breakfast, we head off to Gatwick. Fortunately I did print my boarding pass as I struggle to get the self-service bag drop to accept my phone; later I find the auto-rotate setting which I think may have been causing the PDF to flip as I turned the phone upside-down. Everything else accepts the phone version, although my phone also needs to have the magic wand waved over it at security. The flight and arrival seem fairly straightforward, but it is early evening and so there isn't much to do other than adjust to the habit of eating late.

Fri 8th: We begin with the Alcazar at Seville. It is the first of a handful of destinations where the requirement to book specific time-slots is apparent, but we are only postponed by about an hour, so there is time for a bit of wandering around. The venue is impressive and the tiling is ubiquitous. Later in the afternoon we reach the monumental Plaza de España, built for one of the trade fairs that has been hosted in the city over the years. (This one was held months before the Wall Street crash of 1929). I notice that there is frequently an aroma of brackish water around the city.

Inside the Seville Alcázar

Pomegranate tile at the Plaza de España

Sat 9th: We visit a few palaces, including that of the Countess of Lebrija. The ground floor is mostly covered with Roman mosaics lifted from nearby archaeological sites in the nineteenth century. I shall think of her as the mosaic-stealing Countess of Lebrija from now on. We have pre-booked for the Cathedral and the timing works quite well. In the afternoon we cross the river to the Triana district, where the old ceramic factory is disappointingly closed but the contemporary art museum is actually quite good. The site of the 1992 Expo is another graveyard to industrial development, with occasional business parks and lots of fenced-off wilderness, hampering our return to the city centre in the heat. We are finding that Seville is a bit bigger than it looked on the map, but the central district is mostly no-go for public transport, so there's nothing for it but a lot of walking.

The Palacio de la Condesa de Lebrija

Sun 10th: We catch a bus to Italica, north-west of the city. Apparently this was one of the largest cities in the Roman world. The site is quite large and what is visible is well-presented, but it seems there has been a lot of earlier removal (see above) or areas that remain unexcavated, or under the present-day settlement of Santiponce. In the afternoon we are back in Seville and see some of the city walls and other bits and pieces, but it is really too hot to do very much. We try a craft beer place quite close to our hotel, and rather like it.

Mosaic of the Planets, Italica

Mon 11th: An early start to catch the train to Granada. We have pre-booked for the Alhambra, but our timing is askew; access to the overall site is for the day, but we miss our slot for the Nasrid palaces. It's quite a hike from the train station, by whichever route; and the signage inside the complex is intermittent. So there's a bit of a downer, but the rest of the site is pleasant, and we also get to see a few other places in Granada later in the day. We find that sangria is available in cans at the station cafe. The aircon doesn't seem to be working on the return train, I have insect bites and a heat rash, and the taxi driver won't take card payments, so it hasn't been the best of days.

The Alhambra

Garden in the Generalife

Tues 12th: After a long day yesterday, we take it easy. The Museo de Bellas Artes is free to EU citizens, but we have to pay €3 as a Brexit benefit. The Archivo de Indias is an impressive building, but it is only a building; if you want to see artifacts, the Museum of the Americas in Madrid is the place to go.

Archivo de Indias

Wed 13th: The train to Cordoba is a shorter trip and leaves at a more civilised hour. We have timed our visit to the Mosque-Cathedral quite well, despite a nervous several minutes while Renfe delay the train shortly after departure. It's an interesting space and shows the heritage of being under various "management" over the years. Is it coincidence that the Christian sections are much lighter, with the dark wooden roof beams removed? I suspect not. After lunch we visit the Alcázar, and the Roman bridge. Again it is bakingly hot, but the return train is also at a civilised hour and has working aircon this time.

Mosque or Cathedral? - or maybe both

Alcázar de los Reyes Cristianos

Thurs 14th: Although the train bookings were a little awkward, we've managed to get tickets to Cadíz, and it turns out to be a very welcome trip. The sea air is fresh and the heat feels more manageable. We get to see a few sights, decide to give up on the eating late thing and have paella and sangria in the late afternoon, leaving plenty of time to catch the return train.

Cadíz shoreline

Parque Genovés

Fri 15th: The last day of the holiday is a bit fragmented, but we find a few things that didn't have listings in the Rough Guide, such as the Palacio de las Dueñas. The main archaeological museum has a long-term closure, but we find some impressive excavations at the Antiquarium under the Setas de Sevilla.

House of Bacchus, Antiquarium

Getting to the airport in good time, check-in is straightforward, but it transpires our flight is going to be delayed. Information is minimal, and Seville Airport is quite small; in fact it's the only time I have seen multiple flights listed with the same gate number, as there are few gates in the non-Schengen area. So there's a bit of a pile-up of passengers and little information. It turns out that there are more air traffic control problems at Gatwick, and it's nearly midnight before we have even taken off. Of course, this means the baggage handlers at Gatwick have mostly gone home and it does seem to take a while for our luggage to return. To cap it all, there's an overnight closure on the M25 and the diversion is poorly signposted (and Google Maps offers a contradictory route). It is 4am by the time we get home, rather more mañana than we had intended. It was a mostly successful holiday, but I think we did leave things a bit to chance; it turns out that Spanish culture is sometimes more regimented than one might expect.

Book Review: Heroic Failure - Brexit and the Politics of Pain, by Fintan O'Toole
I've often read Fintan O'Toole's journalism, mostly in The Irish Times, on Brexit, and this book had been on my to-read list for a while, but it was too painful to approach. Then, way back in the days when Liz Truss was Prime Minister, something moved and I felt ready to read it - Brexit is far from dead and I'm certainly not at the "acceptance" stage of grief, but it is less raw and I think the mini-budget has crushed any notion of Singapore-on-Thames; the Conservative party has become obviously ludicrous. (For what it's worth, I think Sunak will be "bad", but I think Truss was "mad"; now the damage has been done, Sunak has a ready-made alibi, but I think it will give him only a modest boost in the polls.)

The author begins by outlining some history, including a visit made by his family to England in the 1960s; clarifying some of the cultural contrasts and stereotypes (England more industrial and forward-looking; Ireland more rural and traditional, for example). But scratching beyond the surface, and navigating back to the present, his thesis is that the English (and he is careful to make the distinction between England and the rest of the UK, let alone the purely geographical entity of "Britain") felt insufficiently rewarded by its victory in World War II. Victory brought near-bankruptcy, austerity, loss of Empire, and over a longer term, faster recovery of European economies and standards of living. Further, the War did not give the English enough opportunity to prove their virility through the suffering of being invaded as was much of the continent. (Just imagine if we had lost.) Put in these terms, it's clearly unhinged, yet it makes sense. The 1973 entry into the EEC, in this perspective, is an annexation, following on from the initial dithering and indifference for the European project of the 1950s, then the humiliation in the 1960s. O'Toole makes some tenuous links to novels such as SS-GB and Fatherland, as well as Edward St Aubyn's Patrick Melrose series, but he makes the metaphors fit. Finally, the austerity unleashed after the financial crisis of 2007/8 provides a way for the Powell/Farage populist tendency to tap in to dissatisfaction. The 2016 referendum might as well have asked the question "Do you like things the way they are?" - well, of course not.

As a journalist, O'Toole doesn't have to propose solutions (for more of that, see How Britain Ends), but he gives us the perspective of a friendly near-neighbour in at least offering a calm and sympathetic diagnosis.

Like the mini-budget, the National Rejoin March had been postponed following the death of the Queen. Given the current state of industrial relations, it was perhaps a little surprising that there wasn't a rail strike yesterday, and we joined a smaller march than those of a few years ago - still estimated by the organisers at 50,000.

The atmosphere was perhaps a bit flat - even among these more determined protestors, perhaps, a bit of fatigue has crept in - but what was notable was the absence of any mainstream political parties (I only noticed Volt as a group among the marchers although I also saw an SNP placard later on). This was highlighted by some of the speakers during the rally in Parliament Square. Starmer seems to me far too timid - even more so than Blair was in the 1990s - and whilst I see that some caution is probably wise, it seems to me that "Make Brexit work" is meaningless as well as undeliverable. Lib Dem positions on the subject also seem fairly inert to me, though I remain a member.

Among the speakers, Terry Reintke and Guy Verhofstadt assured us that the UK could be welcomed back quickly into the EU. In a video message, A C Grayling urged us that the way to rejoin was not to rubbish disenchanted Leavers - true, but in some way they do need to recognise the error of the path taken. Steve Bray and Femi Oluwole were among several calling for proportional representation, which seems to have become a much hotter topic over the past year or so - I think that's probably a prerequisite for rejoining, it isn't a silver bullet but avoiding the kind of electoral dictatorship produced by FPTP we have seen in recent years is necessary for our political system to "grow up". If only Keir Starmer was listening.

Book Review: Adenauer - the Father of the New Germany, by Charles Williams
In the New Year I identified three books that had been sitting on my wish list for years, that I thought I ought to get round to reading. Only sometime later did I notice that they all have something of a WW2-theme to them, though that's not exactly unusual for my reading anyway. But then the war in Ukraine broke out, and the imminent onset of WW3 did not feel like the best time for this reading material.

But anyway, after a suitable sojourn of other reading material, I returned to this biography first, perhaps partly as a symmetry to the recent FDR biography. In fact these two gentlemen turn out to have some similarities of political character, if not of political position. There's more than a whiff of gerrymandering at any available opportunity by Adenauer (compare with the packing of the Supreme Court), and also the reluctance to "let go" towards the end. But, in balance, there are also the achievements: the formation of the CDU from the ruins of 1945, and more than a decade of reconstruction of West Germany. The book splits into four sections of Adenauer's life: The Kaiser's Germany, Weimar Germany, Hitler's Germany, and Adenauer's Germany - the last of these reasonably taking up about half the book although it is disproportionate to the length of time. From modest origins, Adenauer became Mayor of Köln during World War I and occupied the position through post-war occupation and until 1933. Hounded from office and persecuted for some time when the Third Reich took power, Adenauer had some peripatetic years, and carefully absented himself from any active resistance during World War 2. After an uneasy relationship with the occupying powers, he was eventually one of the founders of the CDU. What comes over now as a rather reactionary political philosophy, based largely on religious doctrine, may at the time have seemed more reasonable; his dislike of the SPD - considered merely a cover for the communists, and atheist to boot - seems likewise to be rather reactionary and paranoid, but there's no doubt it was electorally successful. This book also gives some insight into the perspectives and motivations of early post-war Germany in terms of the prospects for forming a single state, multiple states, or other arrangements; the supra-national ECSC and its successors; relations with France, and de Gaulle in particular; and alignment towards NATO or neutrality - the latter of which Adenauer perceived would lead inevitably to Germany becoming a Soviet satellite. The fickle nature of American military involvement in Europe - and the sometime reluctance of Europe to become self-sufficient in its defence - seem long-term issues that have still to be resolved.

Book Review: Mendelssohn is on the Roof, by Jiří Weil
The story starts with minor officials in the occupying German forces being ordered to remove the "Jewish" statue from the roof of the Prague Academy of Music. Unfortunately, neither they nor the workers assigned to the task know which is the statue of Mendelssohn. They decide it must be the one with the biggest nose, but that turns out to be Wagner. Awkward. Fortunately their mistake is prevented, but leads to a long trail of trying to discover, without admitting their ignorance, which is the statue to be removed. (This reminds me, retrospectively, of a conversation in the film The Death of Stalin: "There are no good doctors in Moscow, remember? We got rid of them". Likewise, presumably any books containing helpful reference images of Mendelssohn would have been burned.)

But the book weaves together, without really cohering, other stories of life in occupied Prague. A dying hospital patient, who has to be moved to the Jewish hospital. Fugitive children, who have to hide behind cupboards. The parlous existence of Jews in Prague and Theresienstadt, not initially included in transports to "the East". Resistance or indifference of other citizens. The assassination of Reinhard Heydrich, which seems to be a fixed point in time and space that features frequently in fiction concerning the period (for example The Visible World, The Prague Sonata). Early on in the book there is absurdism and humour; whilst it could have taken many directions, the tone becomes darker as it progresses, and though various conclusions would have been possible, the path that is ultimately taken is one that is foreseeable. No doubt a bleak case can be made that this is a work of catharsis or therapy for the author, who had to fake his own death to avoid the German authorities in 1942, and only a slight reworking of his experiences.

Book Review: Seasons in the Sun - Britain 1974-1979, by Dominic Sandbrook
Whenever I read biographically about Sandbrook, I feel disturbed. Writing for the Telegraph, Mail and Spectator does not endear me to him. But I have found his TV and book histories quite reasonable and fun. How can you not like someone who writes this?

As it happened, Scargill had just got back from the Yorkshire Miners' Gala beauty contest, judged by the unlikely duo of David Dimbleby and Tom Baker.

Although it begins with a slice of 1976 - arguing just how much Star Wars is a British film - like the preceding volume, this history is framed by general elections, beginning in 1974 with the unexpected victory (of sorts) of Harold Wilson. His opinion is that Wilson was already in decline; the intrigue in Number 10 around Marcia Williams and other advisers combined with Wilson's instinct for compromise (not necessarily in a good way) to produce less-than-masterly inaction. Although the immediate industrial unrest was quietened, this was not sustainable: group after group proved to be a "special case" when it came to pay awards. Wilson's paranoia (around right-wing intelligence agencies, South Africa in particular) was fed by rumours in the Jeremy Thorpe affair.

Sandbrook's disavowal of Heath is matched only by his copious scorn for the former Viscount Stansgate, Tony Benn. Quoting amply from Benn's own diaries he loses no opportunity to ridicule Benn's ideas of a "siege economy", or of Benn's various crackpot ideas about class war and solidarity. Indeed, he enjoys pointing out the self-destructive capitalist beggar-my-neighbour approach of various trade unions in the period.

Callaghan and Healey were left holding the parcel when the music stopped, and had to negotiate with the IMF. Sandbrook described Callaghan as "Britain's first monetarist Prime Minister" and is quite praising of the results. It does feel that both political sides share responsibility, having avoided hard questions around inflation and productivity for years, even decades. I think Sandbrook is harsh in describing Keynesianism as a "failure"; it's more the case that it had outlived by quite some way its usefulness, and ought to have been retired long before, but politicians also feared (with good reason) a return to high unemployment as in the 1930s.

Away from the economy, Northern Ireland (and, from time to time, the British mainland) was in flames; Wilson announced a referendum on EEC membership, then avoided campaigning in it (sound familiar?). Away from politics, the book covers drought, the rise of punk, Abba and the Silver Jubilee. Yet people do seem to look back nostalgically on the period. But this book does feel more politically focussed than its predecessor. Written in 2012, some of the tone feels ominously prescient (a small island nation unable to "move on" from its imperial past, with a void in the political centre), role-reversed compared to the present (fears of far left government), or downright wrong with hindsight ("At least Britain did not fall prey to incessant US-style culture wars.").

Sandbrook credits the Callaghan government with getting the economic situation under reasonable control by late 1978, when there were rumours that a general election might be called. But Callaghan demurred, feeling that the polls were too close to call, and that the prospects would be better after some months of stability. Inexplicably - or so it seems now - various trade union sections thought differently, and destroyed the relatively benign conditions with the catastrophic Winter of Discontent. The description of the first few months of 1979 and the election has the air of Gauda Prime Day to it: not so much Star Wars as The Empire Strikes Back.

Book Review: Yes, Prime Minister - the diaries of the Rt Hon James Hacker, Volume 1, edited by Jonathan Lynn and Antony Jay
I was looking for some easy reading in the days leading up to Christmas, and I discovered that according to Goodreads, I read the Complete Yes Minister in 2014. Clearly there would have been a plan to follow up with the rest of the series, but then stuff happened, and here we are, at the end of 2020.

As usual, it feels as fresh as ever; indeed, the opening chapter, Party Games, in which Hacker is elevated to the office of Prime Minister, involves Hacker feeding the press misinformation on Brussels proposals for the Eurosausage as part of his successful campaign. Oh, happy days, when people could recognise satire and fiction. It feels to me that the "editors" occasionally went overboard with their explanatory footnotes, but there are really no duds in this collection of stories.

Book Review: State of Emergency - The Way We Were: Britain 1970-1974, by Dominic Sandbrook
This had been on my to-read list for a while, and it was a Christmas present. Now, somehow, seemed a good time to pick it up. Apparently as an infant I had baths by candlelight, due to power cuts (presumably in 1972, as power cuts were actually less of an issue in 1974). I do remember my mother tended to keep the cupboards "well-stocked", with typically two or three bags of flour (and I still have a couple of packs of left-over candles). Admittedly she did more baking, and also had a smaller range of items, but little risk of running out bar a major incident.

Sandbrook is a few years younger than me, born "about nine months after the start of the Three Day Week" (we are left to draw our own facile conclusions), so the book is all researched and unearthed rather than remembered first-hand. Part of a larger series, this book essentially covers the Heath premiership, though it doesn't pay too much attention to the date range, quite often looking forward into the late seventies or even eighties when a theme requires it.

Most, though not all, of the book is driven by political events, which Sandbrook chooses to discuss thematically, with a liberal chronology. Starting with the General Election of 1970, which unexpectedly promoted Heath to the office of Prime Minister: a time of relative affluence (certainly of greater affluence than previous generations) and parlous industrial relations, with the cracks (metaphorical and literal) beginning to appear in the post-war programme. One thing that strikes me is that Sandbrook is very scornful of Heath's naïvety and arrogance over the short-termism and greed of British companies and management (Heath expresses recognisably the same exasperation in rather different terms in his own autobiography). Add to this a powerful and political trade union movement, where the workers were rather more militant than their leaders in a time of near-full employment, and an overheating economy, and it all begins to break down rather quickly. Perhaps World War I is a comparison in the sense that it was probably no-one's intention, but combined stubbornness and denial brought about the events anyway. Yet there are other events to which the public seemed perhaps sceptical but largely indifferent - decimalisation in 1971 and entry to the EEC in 1973. Wilson's opposition was entirely opportunistic.

The couple of chapters on the Troubles in Northern Ireland are grim reading, at once for themselves, and also in comparison both to the state of Ulster unionism some sixty years earlier (described in The Strange Death of Liberal England) and also today: a combination of insecurity, intransigence and a belief in some sort of "Britishness" that doesn't exist in the rest of the UK.

Other chapters deal with race and gender politics in the period, with frequent reference to television and films of the era. Sandbrook's fondness for Doctor Who comes through in titling his chapter on environmentalism The Green Death. It was news to me that the Peladon stories are allegories for entry into the EEC and the miners' strike. Survivors (again stretching beyond the book's strict timeframe) seems all too relevant to today. The book draws to a close with the February 1974 General Election, again producing an unexpected, and this time inconclusive, result. Sandbrook notes that there are so many what-ifs in this period. Overall, this is an engagingly written book, mixing gloomy and desperate times with more light-hearted reflections, and makes you realise quite how much happens in just a few years.

So said Harold Wilson, and on the basis of this week, it was an understatement. A march in Reading was planned for Saturday, notionally against prorogation, though that seems such a long time ago now. In any case, I figure it's important to keep up the momentum (with a small m) to show that many people are not happy with what's going on. I counted about 40 people as we arrived, but numbers quickly swelled and must have been in the hundreds by the time we set off. None of this waiting for over an hour that you get in London, though.

Passing along Broad Street, we ended by the Town Hall, where a number of speakers gave speeches. The more polished were from political leaders such as Lib Dem PPC Imogen Shepherd DuBey, Reading East MP Matt Rodda, and Bracknell's new Lib Dem MP Dr Phillip Lee, but speakers from other groups such as Berkshire for Europe, the Greens and the Women's Equality Party were every bit as moving.

Only a fool would predict what happens next. For the time being, the Rebel Alliance is holding, but it's fragile. A General Election seems inevitable, without the prospect of it solving very much at all.

Last Wednesday, the news broke that Boris Johnson had asked the Queen to prorogue Parliament for a 5-week period. Among the first 50000 or so to sign the inevitable petition against, I felt this was a necessary but not sufficient action, and decided to join the hastily-convened protest at College Green in the evening. The sound system wasn't really up to the job, but among others I heard Diane Abbott convincingly describe how the UK would conventionally react to such a democratic suspension in a Latin American country. We moved on to Parliament Square and Downing Street, where other, similarly chaotic protests, were going on. The mood was distinctly different from earlier People's Vote marches, much angrier, and although I did not feel unsafe, I had the sense that we have entered a more dangerous phase, and I was not surprised to hear of clashes with Brexit Party supporters later in the evening.

By the weekend, things had become more organised; as I was planning on going to the Proms on Saturday evening, I decided to join the lunchtime protest at Westminster in lieu of the more local protests taking place. In some respects, this was a disappointment, as it was clearly led by the hard left, and the speakers were all either from the Labour Party, the Green Party, or the Unions. John McDonnell made a reasoned speech; some of the Trades Union reps were off-message to my ear, almost overtly suggesting that Corbyn be made head of a caretaker government, at which point he could implement Labour's policies, including the more far-left ones. It pleased the crowd, but that wouldn't be any more constitutional than the present position. Fortunately the loudest booing during the speeches was reserved for the moment when the Vauxhall Labour Party chair mentioned that his MP was Kate Hoey; I'm not sure whether that was the expected reaction.

Despite the arrangement for a "static" demonstration, we had to exit somewhere, and people marched up Whitehall to Trafalgar Square. Enough time had passed for people to be inventive about their placards; I only got poor photos of the light-hearted "More Pierogi, Less Prorogation" or the less subtle Boris Johnson picture with added Hitler moustache, but there were others too.

There was further booing and shouting as we passed the Wetherspoon's pub on Whitehall; as we got closer I realised that a few of Britain's Finest Gammon were being contained by a heavy police presence.

I could see the traffic was being disrupted as I made my way to the National Gallery for a couple of hours to pass the remainder of the afternoon; as I emerged it seemed police were moving in to break up the sit-down protest.

The latest anti-Brexit march - No to Boris, Yes to Europe - sneaked up with a lower profile and had a slightly different theme to previous events, triggered in part by the Conservative party's leadership election. We assumed it would be less busy than the previous march; in that we were correct, and arriving just about midday meant we spent less time hanging around, but it was still quite busy. We noticed quite a few sellers of merchandise; no doubt Peter Tatchell has written an article somewhere condemning the commercialisation of these events. The weather turned out much better than predicted and as a result, despite regular hydration, I had a headache last night, and this morning discovered quite a sunburnt neck.

We found ourselves close to the front of the Lib Dem group, which was still towards the back of the march and took about an hour to get going. Like Brexit itself, PlacardWatch seemed to be running out of steam; although there were some topical slogans in Latin (literally, "Brexiters, go home!"), and Cats against Brexit. We did, at least, make it to Parliament Square this time; but the square itself was full, Billy Bragg was on stage, and we couldn't find any agenda or list of likely speakers, so we decided to call it a day. Pending the collapse of the government in the interim (and who would bet against that?), we'll be back in October.

Fri 7th: I have spent the past day and a half off work with a cold, and although it is clearing, I still feel a bit under the weather. It's an early start and I am surprised by roadworks on the M4, which impose a 50mph speed limit for almost all of the journey to Heathrow. Fortunately we've allowed plenty of time. The self-service bag drop is an innovation and proves counterintuitive, as no peeling is required before fixing the baggage labels. As with all self-service options these days, staff are on hand to assist, perhaps a little patronisingly. The flight is smooth and the transfer to the hotel works as expected, with the small hiccup that the ticket machines for the Arlanda Express are reluctant to accept some cards. Once settled, we take advantage of the good weather to go for a walk around the old town, Gamla Stan.

Sat 8th: The forecast suggests a few good days, but less good by midweek, so we go to Drottningholm Palace. As well as the palace itself, we see the Chinese pavilion, the entertaining Guards' "tent", and the Palace Theatre.

Sun 9th: We visit the Royal Palace; after lunch we catch the popular Changing of the Guard ceremony. They do like military bands in Sweden. In the afternoon we wander around Skeppsholmen and Kastellholmen, before taking in the Modernamuseet and ArkDes.

Mon 10th: Another good day, and, especially as many museums are closed, we head to the open-air Skansen park. In some ways it reminds me of Beamish open-air museum, and there is some common intent, but Skansen is older, more varied (taking in architectural examples from all over the country, including from Finnish and Sami communities), and incorporates an extensive Nordic animals section. I have mixed feelings about zoos, but this seems to work quite well as an educational as well as an entertaining experience. We see owls, bears, boar, moose, seals, reindeer and wolves, as well as domesticated animals.

Tues 11th: The weather is more cloudy, and we take a day trip to Uppsala, where we see the Linnaeus museum and the Gustavianum museum, with its impressive Augsburg cabinet and anatomical theatre.

Wed 12th: We're looking to get round the indoor options, so it's the Historiska museet in the morning, which proves quite interesting (especially the prehistory sections), and the Nationalmuseum (which is an art gallery) in the afternoon. Although there's the obligatory Canalettos, it contains mostly lesser-known artists. A couple of interesting Akseli Gallen-Kallela pieces appear in the later rooms.

Thurs 13th: Weather-wise, this is the worst day by far. We start at the Vasamuseet, which houses the recovered wreck of the seventeenth century Vasa. I was anticipating something more dumbed-down and interactive, but it's much more impressive. In contrast, in the afternoon we visit the Nordiska museet, which isn't bad but is underwhelming in comparison, not really using its space all that well. Finally we explore the Prins Eugens Waldemarsudde museum; there's a temporary exhibition of paintings from Grez-sur-Loing and some intereating contemporary photography, but overall it's quite a small museum.

Fri 14th: The weather is indifferent and we start with a morning tour of the Stadshus, before heading on to Vaxholm, where we see the interesting Hembygdsgårds museum (in a couple of rooms attached to the cafe) before going on to the castle and defensive works. As we exit the castle exhibition, the weather has improved substantially and it's bright sunshine again.

Sat 15th: It's a time-filling last day, so we begin at the Rosendals Trädgård, before moving on to the well-stocked Medelhavsmuseet and finally the Strindberg Museum, before heading off to the airport. The flight departs slightly late yet arrives early, but there's an inordinate wait for the baggage to arrive, and in the end we're quite late back.

Overall, public transport was good and cheap; visitor attractions were priced comparably with London, and food and drink was expensive. We managed some good budget meals (Georgian, Swedish and Mexican); though not among the cheaper options, Pelikan and Magnus Ladulas were particularly good.

I think it's fair to say the EU election results were better than I'd feared. It is, of course, difficult to draw a clear conclusion from the results on the Remain/Leave debate; hand-waving arguments allow both sides to claim victory. I think we can assume that 9% for the Conservatives indicates the level of support for Theresa May's deal and that 14% for Labour is a representation of the true Corbynistas. Yes, it was a good result for the Brexit party, but not that good; they did little better than UKIP in 2014. It was a good result for the Lib Dems and Greens - something that Laura Kuenssberg seemed quite unprepared for in the BBC's results programme - and an unambiguously bad result for Change UK. When they began, I'd have liked them to have done better, but Change UK have made such a mess of things on so many occasions that they desperately need to get themselves a party machine, or merge or form pacts with other parties, and whilst there's an obvious subjectivity to the interpretation, I think Change UK cost the Lib Dems a seat in Wales, to the advantage of the Brexit Party.

The polls continue to have wide variations, and supporters of a given view will point to the recent poll most favourable to that view; of course I particularly liked the YouGov poll putting the Lib Dems in first place, but even then, predictions show the largest number of seats go to Labour, in third position. (The modelling clearly struggles to reflect reality, because it's unlikely the Brexit Party would contest all seats, and it's difficult to imagine them running a hard enough campaign to split votes and unseat Brexiteers such as John Redwood). It's starting to look like a battle between the Brexit Party and the Lib Dems, if you insist on a two-horse race, or more likely a 4-5 party system (with almost all Green votes being wasted under the current system). The case for electoral reform speaks for itself.

I went to the Lib Dem leadership hustings in Winchester yesterday, as I didn't feel I knew enough about Ed Davey or Jo Swinson to make an informed choice. Though there was some visible active campaigning on behalf of both candidates, the event was a measured and courteous session.

Davey talked more about policy specifics and delivery; Swinson was more focused on personality

Swinson was able to point to a significant media profile

Davey seemed to have a more combative style

Davey mentioned LGBT issues a couple of times, Swinson never mentioned them

Neither is interested in a coalition (for now); Swinson was perhaps more open to electoral pacts

Davey was strong on tackling climate change and also highlighted the Greens' far-left economic policies

Davey pointed to the failures of our housing system but seemed to have muddled proposals for solving it

It's not an easy decision; I left feeling that either candidate would do. It's not simply a question of appealing to party members, but of appealing to the wider electorate. It may not be the central measure, but, especially if the polls move further in the Lib Dems' favour, there is a possibility the leader will become Prime Minister, which is not something the Lib Dems have really had to consider in living memory.

We set off early for the Put it to the People march. For once the trains were not sabotaged by Failing Grayling, and we found

uitlander successfully at the meeting point. Unfortunately my path failed to coincide with a couple of other friends I was hoping to meet, but I understand they both were on sections of the march.

We assembled onto Park Lane at 11:30. Predictably, there was a lot of standing around; we could do little but fight with the mobile networks and admire the placards. Like last time, it was gone 2pm before we passed the official starting point of the march. The pace seemed about the same as last time, though the march did not thin out the way previous events have. We parted company with

uitlander, who wanted to stick with the group for the return coach. Despite a strong contender from some bagpipes playing Beethoven's Ode to Joy, the surreal high point was probably passing alongside a Yorkshire party belting out "Thar Brexit deal is crap" to the tune of Ilkley Moor. In fact, it did take us longer to reach the end; it was about quarter to five when we reached Trafalgar Square and dispersed. Sadly we saw no speeches. Such is the price for being part of the 1,000,000.

For me, the mood felt darker than previous marches. Some of that may have been down to anxiety, either generally, or specifically about not being able to fulfil meeting arrangements with other friends, but for the most part I think the reason is the more obvious reality. The petition, to revoke Article 50, seems to exemplify the radicalisation of Remainers: despite the stated objective of the march, which reflects the logic that the 2016 referendum decision is best amended by a further referendum on the actual deal, the sense that these people want Article 50 revoked was strong. Whilst she made some bad errors of judgement on Wednesday evening, Theresa May was right to say we have all had enough. It's just that she hasn't, so far, allowed MPs to say what they are in favour of, though they have had ample opportunities to vote things down.

Where do we go from here? It's difficult to guess, though I think we can guess that MV3 will fail, if it is put at all. It feels as though the indicative votes should either lock the current deal into a referendum, or dispatch Article 50 altogether, with the men in white coats, or John Bercow, taking May away for her own good and everyone else's; but Parliament has, so far, excluded the overtly sensible options. Longer term, we need some inquiry to hold those who peddled lies and fantasies to account, and we also need something like a Royal Commission to consider parameters and rules for whether - if ever - we are to have referendums in this country in future.

Book Review: Alone in Berlin, by Hans Fallada (translated by Michael Hoffmann)
Perhaps it all started with the financial crash, but certainly since the Brexit referendum, I've felt a slow slide into the normalisation of xenophobia and intolerance (which is of course described by its protagonists as "freedom of speech"). The first comments drawing a parallel with 1930s Germany seemed hysterical, but as time goes on, with centrist MPs heckled as Nazis, the Daily Mail's description of judges as Enemies of the People (Wikipedia link) and so on, you do wonder. Dystopian as the present may seem to be, this book is a reminder, and a caution, that the craziness could be so much worse.

The story, loosely based on real events, begins with the arrival in Berlin of the notification of the death of Otto and Anna Quangel's only son, during the conquest of France. Previously compliant, but no more, with the regime - under which they had themselves benefitted, with Otto finding a job after a failed business venture and four years of unemployment - they begin a lone campaign of resistance, in the form of leaving anonymous postcards with anti-war and anti-Nazi messages in buildings in the city.

They are not the only ones who are alone. In their own apartment block, the elderly Jewish Frau Rosenthal lives in fear, her husband having disappeared to Moabit prison. Others, too, must feel themselves to be alone.

For a time, this trivial project - which nonetheless counts as high treason - is successful. The Gestapo investigate but are unable to do more than monitor the distribution of cards as they are discovered across the city. Officers follow, and sometimes manufacture, false leads, in order to appear productive to their superiors. A whole subplot is devoted to the persecution of a feckless but innocent member of the underclass.

The novel is well-written and expertly translated. Fallada maintains suspense throughout; as the novel progresses, it becomes increasingly disturbing and apocalyptic, but he finds ways of maintaining the dignity of most of the characters. At some point, the Quangels' luck must surely run out, but even then, if the subsequent investigations and apparently inevitable show-trials take long enough, the ultimate outcome is not certain, and for all the desolation, it should be noted that the story is not without its uplifting moments.

Book Review: Half In, Half Out - Prime Ministers on Europe, edited by Andrew Adonis
I picked this up in the work book sale last year, and it seemed about time to read it, before it is too late. It's a collection of essays by various authors, one on each post-war British Prime Minister from Churchill to May. As such it sometimes suffers from a lack of a coherent point of view, and has some repetition across chapters, but on the whole that doesn't detract much from the book.

Churchill is a logical starting point, although one might debate whether he counts as the "first" post-war Prime Minister. Unfortunately this proves to be a slightly wobbly start, as much of the chapter is written in a counterfactual style, suggesting Churchill won the 1945 general election. Given the state of knowledge of some of our elected representatives, this perhaps needs to be made clearer. In the climate of fake news, it could also have done to clarify the background around some misquotes to strengthen its evidence for Churchill's post-war position on Europe.

My overall impression from the book is that Britain has had four post-war pro-Europe Prime Ministers, out of fourteen: Churchill, Macmillan, Heath and Blair. Attlee and Eden are the most obvious Eurosceptics, both seemingly out of a fondness for Britain's imperial past, an attitude that unhelpfully persists to this day. Wilson, it appears, was downright opportunistic, opposing and supporting as it suited him for domestic politics; but the prevailing position has been acquiescence, with most ultimately trying to make Europe work better for Britain, and in general, constructively with their EU counterparts. Adonis' own essay on Tony Blair poses the interesting what-if? of how things would have been different had Blair taken the UK into the Euro and stayed out of Iraq, partly a butterfly effect from 9/11 and Blair's own thrall to George W Bush, but also partly a legacy from Labour maintaining stronger links with the US Democrats than with the various Social Democratic parties in European countries. It was a critical timidity on Blair's part, failing to recognise that there was a window of opportunity to join the leading members of the EU that would pass, instead following Britain's policy of letting others take the lead in the hope of joining them later, if successful. Another decision, plainly flawed with hindsight though probably made with good intention, was to depart from the policy chosen by other states to constrain migration from Eastern European following the accession of those states in 2004. Ivan Rogers chooses to focus on technicalities in his essay on David Cameron, which results in a rather anaemic product of civil service neutrality. Neither Brown nor May come away with good marks; both failed to understand the European mindset and process (in May's case, not helped by the self-inflicted action of purging almost anyone in the previous regime who knew about Europe). It seems unwise to rule out any possible outcomes, but the balance of probability right now seems to be that things won't go well.

Another weekend, another People's Vote March. We decided not to bother getting up early, and took our time, arriving at Marble Arch around noon, which was the announced starting time. We shuffled, slowly. Very slowly. Much more slowly than last time. In fact, at about half past one, I commented that we had reached the bus stops where we met P on the March for Europe more than 18 months ago. It was well after 2pm by the time we got going. Even then, the pace was much slower than previous events, and the crowd never thinned out in its density. It was nearly 4pm by the time we reached Trafalgar Square; there seemed no prospect of progressing to the march's end-point in Parliament Square, and the crowds were milling. We decided it was time to call it a day, but realistically we'd have missed any speeches anyway.

It turned out that we were among 600,000 - 700,000 other people - or, as Channel 4 News announced it, the largest march in the UK ever to take place without Jeremy Corbyn. That was much, much bigger than the previous events, and explains the overall laggardliness.

Placard-wise, things were plainly getting quite serious. I hope the government is listening.

Book Review: Europe's Last Chance - Why the European States Must Form a More Perfect Union, by Guy Verhofstadt
It's always a bonus to discover something in the work book sale that I know is already on my to-read list. I was interested in what the author would have to say, though I have disdain for the hyperbole in the title. Most of his argument is for a more federal Europe; in that I broadly agree with him. Fortunately, it seems the French rather than the British are to blame, at least in the first instance, for their blocking in 1954 of the treaty establishing a common defence community. Verhofstadt argues this treaty would have allowed for a kind of United States of Europe, but also would have led to the development of associate status outside the core, which might have suited the UK better. But it wasn't to be, because one national government wasn't prepared to pool sovereignty, and this has happened over and over again in the intervening years, making the European project weak and less effective than it could have been. He chronicles weakness in the areas of foreign and defence policy, in the Middle East and Russia, the rise of authoritarian parties and governments, and indifferent economic progress. Whilst I broadly agree with him, I don't always find his arguments particularly convincing and I doubt they will shift anyone's position. In the chapter on how a lack of a digital single market disadvantages Europe, his choice of Airbnb and Uber as example success stories seems dubious - both companies have had a rather mixed reception and created their own set of issues. The book feels as if it is written for an American audience, and repeatedly sings the praises of both the development and structure of the constitution of the USA - which may be a fair theoretical perspective, but its implementation and practice over recent decades has hardly been exemplary. The prospect of Grexit is assigned far more writing than Brexit, which may be partly a sign of the period in which the book was prepared and written, but is also perhaps indicative of the disinterest in mainland Europe of this all-consuming issue in the UK.

Passacaglia and Fugue

previously The Titfield Thunderbolt

La Malte

Baltic

The trains in Spain

Entitlement

Another march

Wirtschaftswunder

Fiddler on the roof

The Sun Makers

I wished him an offal Christmas and a wurst New Year

Doctor Who and the Three Day Week

A week is a long time in politics

Reichstag fire or avocado revolution?

Still in the EU

Stockholm Syndrome

B*llocks to Brexit

Thar Brexit deal is cr*p

Postcards from the edge

Victory or Death

People's Vote

On Europe

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