Through the Front Door

Yesterday I settled for a morning of reading some philosophy in my favourite place, Bromley House Library. Surrounded by books, silence and overlooking what is regarded as one of the best examples in the UK of a Georgian garden Bromley House is one of Nottingham's greatest treasures.

 Only a few metres away the great Nottingham Market Square is its usual busy self. Trams and buses rattle by. Nearby Nando's and Gregg's are filled with people buying their lunchtime "Meal Deals" and as I approached the Library's entrance squashed between a Barnardo's Charity shop and a newsagent and sport memorabilia outlet I passed the Bell Inn where a homeless young man lay in his sleeping bag asleep on the pavement oblivious that just a few metres further on four burly hi-vis jacketed policemen were bundling another young man, this one flailing and aggressive, into a police car. Nottingham on a bright spring Wednesday morning.

But pass under the unassuming entrance arch and through the ancient front door of Bromley House Library and one is instantly transported, Narnia like, from the ordinary and the humdrum and the woes of city life to another world, a more attentive, comforting and certain time away from the madcap 21st century streets outside. Here, as others have done for over two centuries, I can soak up the silence and steadfastness of hundreds of years of wisdom and great literature seeping from the thousands of volumes that surround me and line every wall of its myriad of rooms, book lined passageways and storeys. Ancient books, much local Nottinghamshire history, the latest blockbuster novels, CDs, guide books, audio books and everything else in the literary spectrum is there.  No matter that I have been a member for many years, each visit is a journey of discovery, an ever-exciting experience of finding my way, like some bygone explorer, through the warren like jungle of rooms, doors, passageways and staircases, each leading to a different and unexplored magical trove of great works both ancient and modern. From the walls, old oil paintings, fading photographs and marble busts of past Bromley House members and Nottingham's great and good of yesteryear gaze down upon the winged armchairs, the soft cushions, the polished tables, the reading lamps and the engrossed silent, old and young literature lovers and academic researchers of today.

A gentle spring breeze drifts from the garden and in through the open window behind me and around the corner from where I sit the smell of coffee from the Library's little refreshment room fills my nostrils. A fellow member smiles as she passes where I sit in my winged armchair, the spring sun pouring through the window and warming my back. She is on her way to grab a coffee and as she passes she mouths a whispered "Good morning, isn't it a lovely day?" and then disappears to do silent battle with the coffee machine. I smile back in acknowledgment and mouth "Indeed it is", feeling warmed by her smile and courtesy; in Bromley House it is always thus - kindness and courtesy are almost written in as a requirement for membership. In this turbulent, uncertain, brash, shallow and often despairing world Bromley House is an oasis of solitude and solace, a haven of treasured certainty and continuity. It is, for me, the still small voice of wisdom, tolerance and peace in the disturbed, distracted and intemperate world that we now inhabit.

Rejoice in the Lamb: Ruddington & District Choral Society

 

In his programme notes Ruddington & District Choral Society’s Music Director, Paul Hayward, explained that the programme for their May 2022 concert had been carefully chosen as a response to the state of our contemporary world. In the event, his comments could not have been more perceptive. Originally planned for the May 2020 concert, which had to be set aside as Covid  first took hold, this evening of largely 20^th century English choral works seemed even more  prescient given that Covid and its effects have disrupted the life of the planet for two years and this nightmare has been compounded by the events in Ukraine and their dreadful consequences. We live, as Paul Hayward suggests, in uncertain times and to underline this, there were in the audience for Saturday night’s concert at St Peter’s Church in Ruddington a family of Ukrainian refugees who have found sanctuary in Ruddington from the present horrors of their own land.

 Like all other organisations, Ruddington Choral Society has felt the impact of two years of Covid led interruptions – practise and rehearsal time, singers’ illness, and simply getting a large group of singers back together and in the swing of things has meant that Paul Hayward, organ maestro accompanist Michael Overbury and most of all the singers themselves had to pull out all stops – organ and otherwise – to get the concert to performance standard. But pull out all stops they did – and especially so when one considers that the programme was a musically taxing one; there were no works in which the choir could “coast”, every bar and note had to be worked at……and it would not, I think, be inappropriate to suggest that everyone was asking themselves the question on Saturday morning, would it be alright on the night!

But all right it was! The choir, reduced in numbers following the Covid effect, rose to the occasion magnificently from the very first note. The concert began with the popular and haunting Choral Suite from Karl Jenkins’ The Armed Man – surely something to cause us to reflect upon given the events in eastern Europe in recent weeks. Jenkins’ work, subtitled A Mass for Peace was originally commissioned for the Millennium celebrations and dedicated to victims of the Kosovo crisis. The work charts the growing menace of and a descent into war, interspersed with moments of reflection; shows the horrors that war brings; and ends with the hope for peace in a new millennium, when "sorrow, pain and death can be overcome". On Saturday, the choir’s quiet and evocative rendering of the work was not only a gentle, solemn and above all reverential opening to the concert but one which, I’m sure, caused every member of the audience to reflect deeply upon how thin is the gossamer thread that holds us all from falling into the abyss in our 2022 world.

Musical Director Paul Hayward

To take us up to the interval we enjoyed the talents of Michael Overbury playing a Bach organ solo the Kyrie Gott Heiliger Geist – a plea for God’s mercy upon us – Michael’s keyboard skills and sheer musicality displaying all the intricacies, piety, magnificence and richness of Bach’s devotional music to perfection. This was followed by three short choral works: As Torrents in Summer by Elgar, Parry's Music, when soft voices die, and The Long Day Closes by Arthur Sullivan. These  profound and deeply reflective works were given a lyrical and poignant quality by the choir – perfect for a May evening and for a world looking for solace and certainty as it recovers from a deadly pandemic and a world tormented by other ills, mostly man made.

Five Spirituals from A Child of our Time by Michael Tippett was a splendid opening to the second half of the evening. Tippett’s famous and hugely popular oratorio written in the early years of the Second World War was inspired by the events of Kristallnacht in Nazi Germany and the subsequent violent Nazi pogrom against the Jewish population. As the programme notes rightly commented: “it is a work of profound sympathy with oppressed people the world over”. The choir’s rendering of the spirituals captured beautifully the essence, the humility and inner strength that we recognise in all spirituals and within all oppressed people or whatever colour, creed or belief. The sheer musicality of Steal Away Jesus, the humility of Nobody Knows the Trouble I See, the gentle power of Go Down Moses, the sorrow and despair of By and By clearly spoke to the audience and as the words  and the haunting music of the final spiritual Deep River gently filled the St Peter’s evening air I doubt that there was anyone in the audience not moved and humbled by the words and the music. The Five Spirituals was a balm, a comfort, in these troubled times and a timely reminder to those of us who sat in St Peter’s of how very fortunate we are to be able to sit quietly and safely on such a spring evening to enjoy such music and ponder the power of the words.

Organ Maestro Michael Overbury

And so to the concert moved to its final works. Michael Overbury gave a lovely ethereal rendering of his own arrangement of Lamento di Tristan & La Rotta based upon 14^th century Italian dance music – a few minutes of innocence and beauty in an otherwise solemn evening, a reminder perhaps, that in these times of dismay and disharmony our very souls need the refreshment that goes with peace, beauty and gentleness. And finally, Michael’s work was followed by Benjamin Britten’s Rejoice in the Lamb first performed in 1943 and commissioned for the 50^th anniversary of the consecration of St. Matthew’s Church in Northampton. It is based upon the poem Jubilate Agno  by Christopher Smart and probably written between 1759 -1763. The poem, written while Smart was in an asylum, depicts the idiosyncratic praise and worship of God by all created beings and things, each in their own way. While in the asylum Smart was left alone, except for his cat Jeoffry. He felt lost and homeless feeling that his life was in a "limbo… between public and private space", lost in his introspective and deeply religious thoughts. He had nothing or no one  to turn to and thus inwards devoting himself to God and his poetry. He was released from the asylum in1763, but his poem was not published until 1939 under the title Rejoice in the Lamb: A Song from Bedlam. This, became the focus of Britten's composition and as with many of Britten’s works, is taxing; the choir had to be at their best – and they were! Under Paul Hayward’s baton and with Michael Overbury’s  accompaniment they dealt superbly with the sheer musical variety and ever changing demands of the work. After  negotiating a quiet beginning followed by a jubilant series of verses inviting man and beast to come before the Lord, then a beautiful hymn of creation leading to a lament as Smart described in his poem the difficulties he encounters in his life  the choir responded perfectly to their Director and Accompanist’s leadership.  The four soloists, Grace Bale, Sarah Atkinson, Simon Lumby and James Gaughan, too, were splendidly “on song” and  perfectly at one with the choir. The poem and Britten’s music speak of those who are in turmoil,  who are struggling with their world and their own lives. It is a theme that Britten often returned to, most notably in his great opera Peter Grimes; inner personal turmoil, mankind's potential for cruelty but also his capacity for goodness. Rejoice in the Lamb was a fitting work for this concert concerned as it was with the uncertainty and turmoil of our current world  and the famous line from Peter Grimes "I hear those voices that will not be drowned" would, perhaps, be a suitable subtext for not only this work but perhaps for the whole evening

Britten’s work is not and was not an easy listen – but that, surely is the point. Saturday night’s programme was music for our troubled times. It was music to prick our consciences, to make us reflect upon our times and the trials of others, to encourage  us to strive to create a world more attentive and faithful than our own present and to make us realise our own great good fortune. But at the same time – and perhaps more importantly – to give us some certainty in this ever changing world by reminding us that we are all part of humanity and God’s creation. There were no standing ovations or rousing cheers at the end of the concert, just a subdued and reverent applause – and that is how it had to be - the message of the evening and the music had got home. And that message, if  indeed there was one, was of our humanity, our dignity and love and respect for our fellow man and woman, and how we  must respond to that and them. It was music to reflect on, to take away in our hearts and minds and ponder as the next 24 hour news broadcast reports of some other tragedy – big or small, personal or international, man made or natural - in our ever changing turbulent world. 

It has been said that all art – be it painting, music, literature, dance or any other art form - should, if it is to be considered worthy or perhaps even great, “comfort the disturbed and disturb the comfortable” – and on Saturday night The Ruddington & District Choral Society choir members, the soloists, Michael Overbury and Paul Hayward fully acknowledged and met this criteria. Paul Hayward wrote in his programme notes that he hoped it would be "an evening to to find solace" -  and indeed it was.  The final words of  the spiritual Deep River perhaps summed up this desire for some comfort and consolation both eloquently and humbly: "O children, don't you want to go to that gospel feast, that promised land, That land where all is peace. Walk into heaven and take my seat, cast down my crown at Jesus' feet". Many thanks to all concerned for a wonderful night.

Derogatory, Demeaning and Damning - a sad verdict on our police force.

A quote variously attributed (or maybe mis-attributed) to both George Orwell and Winston Churchill tells us that: “Men sleep peacefully in their beds at night because rough men stand ready to do violence on their behalf.” The message is brutally clear; society and we as individuals can only be kept safe because of the actions by people in power – the police, the military, MI5/MI6, etc – and these actions are both necessary and not to be enquired into too closely for they are almost certainly illegal.

 I’ve often accepted the quote and its implications as an unfortunate but sadly necessary aspect of the real world as it is: “realpolitik” in its most brutal form. In times of war or when acts of terrorism prevail it can, I suppose, be justified as being for the greater good; actions sometimes have to be taken which we would not normally sanction or approve of. It is the logic and the moral standpoint that “justified” the waterboarding and other extreme punishments (or to use the correct word “tortures”) in places like Guantanamo Bay.

And then I read this article (Met apologises to woman for ‘sexist, derogatory’ language in strip-search | Metropolitan police | The Guardian ) and my view shifts somewhat. It no longer seems so clear cut for in reading the article I am reminded that one or two other considerations appear which, for me at least, are unsettling.

 To start with let me make my position clear. Having read the article and done a little bit of research I do not know whether the strip searching of this young academic, Dr Duff, was justified. Maybe she was unreasonably unhelpful. Maybe the police were properly operating within their remit, maybe they had very genuine concerns which, in their view, prompted and perhaps even justified their actions. Maybe there were other factors which this article does not make clear. Lots of unknowns.

 What is not unknown, however, for it was recorded, are some of the things that were said by the police officers concerned as they carried out their strip search:

“What’s that smell? Oh, it’s her knickers,”….“Is she rank?... her clothes stink”….“Didn’t find anything untoward on her, ladies?”…….“A lot of hair,” one of the female officers replies. The others laugh….“Ugh, I feel disgusting; I’m going to need a shower”….“You need fumigating.”

 Maybe many might find these sexist and grossly derogatory comments humorous or even justifiable in the given situation. I’m sure that many will simply suggest that “she got what you asked for”. Well, maybe.  Maybe this is Orwell’s alleged comment made real in all its brutality – comments planned and intended to demean, degrade and “break” someone in custody.

 Mmmmmm?

 But I’m wondering what sort of person would feel it appropriate to utter these words whatever the justification? Do they not see that in doing so they are demeaning themselves in treating another human being so? Are they not embarrassed by what they said? If these words are justified by the rules and regulations under which our police operate in these circumstances, then we are all culpable in allowing them to be so. Given the Met’s apology and payment of compensation one can only assume that the words and phrases were not appropriate or justified. That leaves only one option – they were the language and everyday responses of the very people who are supposed to uphold our society’s fabric and protect the individual from attack and harm – be it physical, verbal or mental. I cringed, embarrassed when I read them – am I unusual, naïve in not being able to laugh as the police did. Maybe I’ve led too sheltered a life, maybe I should ”get out more” – well, maybe, but deep down something tells me this is not acceptable in our society – ever.

 Sadly, I don’t believe that these officers switch on to “interview and strip search mode” and leave these darker aspects of their personality outside the police station. This is the real them. These are the jokes and one liners that make up much of their day to day conversation. One only has to sit in a pub for a few minutes, walk through a town centre, skim through the comments on Face Book or other social media platforms, watch many of the foul mouthed “comedians” on our TVs or listen to the crowd at a football match to know that foul, abusive, and derogatory language is part and parcel of everyday life for many. And, of course, in being so,  those who use it as part of their everyday communication display the real “them”. It is not a pretty sight nor is it something we should ever seek to justify or explain away.

On My Honour

Stan in uniform in 1943

When I was a child it was common to hear other kids (and me!) say “On my honour” when we were trying to convince others – usually an adult – of the truth of our actions or of events in which we had been involved. Another much used phrase with a similar meaning was “Cross my heart and hope to die”!

I mention this because today Pat and I have been scanning some old photographs and letters into our computer. The photographs and letters belonged to Pat’s parents and date from the war years and just after. They are old black and white photos of Pat’s childhood and the letters are those sent by Pat’s Dad to her Mum when he was serving abroad during the war. As we looked at the images and read the letters we were struck by the story they told of war time/post war Britain. The poignant and loving contents of the letters were a humbling tribute to the stoicism and matter of fact way that Pat’s Dad – Stan – told her Mum of his daily army life as he and his colleagues fought their way from North Africa and through the length of Italy making no reference to the dangers he must have been in and telling her how much he missed his wife and was looking forward to coming home safely at the end of the war so that they could get on with their lives.

The letters were written on pre-printed and pre-stamped sheets, tissue paper thin. Dad’s neat, tightly written script filled every little space and the sheet was marked so that it could be folded in the right place and sealed so as not to require an envelope. The army had clearly thought of everything! When folded correctly and sealed the address appeared on one side of the letter and on the reverse was a space for a statement that had to be made by the sender. As it was wartime the statement was important to ensure that no important information about the war or the army was written in the letter - military information, if included, could be valuable to the enemy. The statement on each of Stan's letters said: “I certify on my honour that the contents of this letter refer to nothing but private and family affairs” – and then Dad signed his statement underneath.

“On my honour” – how terribly old fashioned and twee those three little words sounds today in our 21st century world - but what human qualities do they conjure up and what profound principles they demand of us when we utter them. Stan died about a quarter of a century ago, a much respected, decent and above all honourable man. I have absolutely no doubts that if he were alive today he would be horrified by the lack of “honour” and “honourable behaviour” that has become part and parcel of our everyday lives. We now live in a world where pragmatism rules and the end result is all that matters and in being so qualities such as integrity or honour are easily side-lined in favour of "getting the result I want" whether it be on the sport's field, in the work place or in Parliament; the end justifies the means, not what is right or good or decent or honourable.

Our leaders, despite many being referred to as "The Right Honourable" – and especially our PM – seem to have forgotten what it is to act honourably. Or maybe in the case of Boris Johnson it seems to me more likely that he never got the gene that implants (or should implant) within us all some shred of decency and honour. It is for that reason we have lost faith in those who represent us and act on our behalf - they are no longer decent or honourable; in short, they are no longer to be respected or trusted.

Stan and Winnie with their
family in 1951

But being honourable is not an old fashioned concept and of no further use in our brash modern world for without it all society and we as individuals are much weakened. Acting honourably is not just about grandiose action or great moral principles and promises such the knights of old abided by. Nor does it only apply to the great and the good such as our politicians. It is far more to do with the simpler qualities of living a "good life": being honest, telling the truth, doing the best job you can, being a good neighbour, colleague or friend, being fair, acting correctly on behalf of yourself and others.......the list is endless. When we visit the doctor I guess most of us hope and expect that he/she will act in our best interests - be thorough, abide by the rules and standards expected to make us well. When we climb on a bus we hope that the driver will take care and do his best to drive us safely to our destination. When we send our children to school we demand that the teacher acts in our child's best interest and does the very best he or she can for our son or daughter. And when we turn to the police, the ambulance driver, our MP, our neighbour, our local vicar, or a myriad of others and seek their help and advice we trust them hope they will give us good advice, be honest, be fair, do the right thing - in short, act honourably. When we stop acting honourably, decently or honestly all trust disappears; the law of the jungle takes hold, and society is on a slippery slope down. It is the human quality and principle that men like Stan went off to war to fight for.

Maybe I’m just a grumpy old man – but I still think that when I’m dead and gone I’d prefer to be remembered as an honourable man rather than a famous man or a rich man or a good looking man or a successful man. All these shallow and inconsequential qualities that so many aspire to in our celebrity obsessed world of today are false gods ; Stan's letters and his life bore witness to that.