The Italian job

I know, jumping a bit on the bandwagon here, but I have to say that the notion by the government of Iran that the video showing the fatal shooting of Neda Agha-Soltan is a fabrication, an attempt of the West or the demonstrators to provoke the government of Iran, is redicolous.  

Of course, manipulation of public opinion is an old story and it would not have been the first time that “news” would have been fabricated to serve a propaganda purpose.

After all, even Hitler felt the need to stage a 'Polish' attack on Gleiwitz radio station as justification for the Invasion of Poland on 31 August 1939 rather than just outright admitting to attacking Poland.

And the Gulf of Tonkin Incident in August 1964 falls in the same category as the US cited two separate attacks by naval forces of the Democratic Republic of Vietnam (North Vietnam) on US naval forces were presented to the US public as justification for the large-scale involvement of US armed forces in Southeast Asia. Later it emerged that there were no such attacks on US ships.

In December 1989, it was reported that in Romania between 4,000 and 10,000 people had been shot during a local demonstration by the Securitate, the state secret police, which in turn led to a nation-wide wave of unrest, ultimately resulting in the fall of the dictatorship of Nicolae Ceauşescu. Later official counts show that “only” 97 people were killed in Timisoara.

And who could forget the fabrication of the baby-incubator atrocity, allegedly committed by Iraqi soldiers in Kuwaiti hospitals, witnessed by a Kuwaiti "witness" named Nayirah, which was harnessed to help drive a reluctant Senate into the first Iraq war and Colin Powell’s bioweapons producing train laboratories and in general the existence of weapons of mass destruction to facilitate the second Iraq war?

So, could it be “thinkable” that the video is a fabrication?

Sure, certainly.

That some of the reports can not even agree on the age of Neda – in some she is 16, in others 19 or even 27 or 27- and tries to make Neda into “the face of  Iran’s struggle”, an “Angel of the revolution” while other reports insist that she was an innocent bystander who happened to be in the wrong place at the wrong time may also raise doubts about the facts surrounding the origins of the video.

And of course the video is being made all the more dramatic by the flood of pictures now depicting Neda as a young attractive woman – so much so that the tragic circumstances of the other 9 fatalities of that day have almost disappeared. This exclusive focus on Neda seems again be all to convenient not to be the result of a clever, albeit ruthless manipulation done by the press (and other, more sinister, agencies?).

But what would be the motive of faking the video?

In all other cases the fabricated news were used to spark some kind of reaction.

In the case of  Neda that reaction, eg the nation-wide demonstrations,  were already happening.

Should the video be a tool to radicalise the demonstrators?

Perhaps, but the government of Iran had themselve already announced that there were fatalities (perhaps in an ill-fated atempt to scare people off the streets, as some reporters suggested. In that case, how better to achieve this by attesting to the veracity of the video rather than denying it.)

If the video is fake, if it does not show Neda, or anyone else’s last moments after being fatally shot; if Neda (or the person in the video) was not an anti-government demonstrator… why then did the government of Iran prohibit a proper funeral according to islamic traditions, why does the government ban to hold memorial services for her?

More than everything, it is the reaction of the Iranian government that belie their own words.

But in the end it almost does not matter if Neda was a supporter of the opposition or not, if she was “too western” in her dressing style for the government (as some of the pictures distinctly show her non-traditional islamic dress code)... if old men with beards are so arrogant to have their state forces fire indiscrimiently into crowds, if they are so afraid of an unarmed young woman that they deny her family a burial according to islamic traditions in a country that proclaims to be an “Islamic Republic”, then we may indeed have seen the beginning of the end of that particular brand of islamic government.

And the thought that this may  be a result that Neda would have not been too sad about is the only little bit of consolation when you see those last moments of her.

As with most things, make up your own mind about what you see.

And if you think that this is a genuine video, that it does show the last moments of Neda/someone, spare a few moments to mourn the passing of a young life.

Is it just me, or is there a certain antagonism between women and airports?

Last year I brought a friend of mine, Bella, who had visited me in Birmingham to the airport. Ok, she lives in New York and was travelling for a few months before so I wasn’t too surprised when I saw her piece of luggage – a man(!)-sized wardrobe on wheels.

As she was flying across oceans that wasn’t a problem so far , but then she wanted to fly to Rome to see some friends before making her way to Australia. And slowly but surely running out of money, she wanted to fly with a low-budget airline and that was when things got a bit dramatic, if not traumatic (well, at least for her).

When we arrived at the airport with that rolling walk-in wardrobe of hers, Ryan Air flatly refused to accept her suitcase as it weighed in at a staggering 35 kilos.

They stated that for health and safety reasons staff was only allowed to lift suitcases up to 30 kilos. So off we went to buy another suitcase at the airport there and then to distribute the weight.

And back is was to the check-in desk - just to face the next obstacle.

Of course Ryan Air only allows one 15 kg suitcase per person and for every kilo more you payed £15 each (then). As even before there was 20 kg excess weight, together with the weight of the brand new suitcase it came to just over £350 in penalty.

Now with the checkout being close to closing and boarding to begin shortly, this was not the time to divide the belongings up in “necessary” and “not-so-necessary” (just to do that for all the pairs of shoes Bella had with her would have taken an eternity) and with me always willing to come to an aide of an damsel in distress it was a good thing that I had my credit card with me.

Funny as all this that was (now, a few months later), I thought that this would have been something of a one-time-off thing.

Well.

Today, this afternoon, I accompanied my friend Annalisa, one of my housemates, to the airport as she was leaving to return to her native Sicily.

Like Bella, she was running out of money.

Unlike Bella, she had sent some of her stuff via carrier days before and made sure that her suitcase did not come to more that 12 kg. So, what could go wrong?

We went to the check-in and the weigh-in went fine – 12,5 kilos. But then the lady behind the counter asked for the on-line check-in print-out. When I saw Annalisa’s eyes widening in surprise I had a deja-vu feeling coming over me.

Without the print-out Annalisa had to pay £40 for the airport desk check-in.

Did I mention before that when a damsel is in distress having a credit-card comes in handy sometimes?

Sigh.

Perhaps it will be third time lucky and next time I bring one of my female friends to the airport all we need are matches to light the cigarettes before she is boarding the plane.

Whether 'tis nobler in the mind to enjoy the sun and suffer
The pains and death from skin cancer,
Or to hide from the burning rays
And grow up with deformed bones,
Like the slum’s kids in Victorian London.

A few days ago I came across some interesting item that was reported in the News*

Yea, the Victorian childhood disease known as “rickets” is making it’s unwelcome comeback. Rickets is a softening of bones in children potentially leading to fractures and deformity, the predominant cause is a vitamin D deficiency.

http://www.birminghampost.net/news/west-midlands-health-news/2008/11/19/rickets-returns-to-birmingham-65233-22290225/

And how do you stock up on Vitamin D?

Simpels, by exposure to ultraviolet B light (sunshine when the sun is highest in the sky).

But apparently, due to the hours of sunshine everywhere north of Birmingham (and no one mentioned in the News whether it would include the city or not), children increasingly suffer from Rickets, especially if they are dark skinned (as that makes it more difficult for the weak rays to stimulate the Vitamin D production in the body) or wear protective clothing for instance for religious reasons (-like the Burqua).

But then - even if the sun breaks through the northern blanket of clouds, you can’t just enjoy the good weather, because exposing yourself to the sun will give you skin cancer, as we all know since we are told every 5 minutes in "summer" (eg when it is a bit lighter during the rainy season).

…sometimes you just can’t win.

*So, you see, it is even for health reasons that I should go to Italy… if that isn’t a sign…

Well, that was interesting, we should do that again... not!

I halfway expected just a clerk to greet me, to go over the paperwork and give the verdict.

But life is always different than you expect, isn't it?

So, when I approached the building, I had a smoke and soon was approached by one other guy who apparently was waiting for the proceedings.

"What are you in for?" the asked conspicuously. A normal friendly question, if perhaps he would not have had a closely cropped hairstyle, big heavy boots and had a face covered in bruises.

"Erm, not paying a fine" I replied timidly.

"Oh, you be ok, mate" he stated generously. "For me it's prison this time for sure."

I suddenly remembered all those prison movies where the lifer advived the newcomer never to ask for why people are in for. So I went for "A long time?"

"Yea, probably."

"Ah."

"So, now I am having a drink before, been on the vodka." as if his breath would not have told me already. I found myself suddenly smoking a lot faster than I normally do.

He then reached inside his jacket, produced a vodka bottle and held it out in front of me. "Want some?"

"Ah, thanks, not just right now." And uups, my cigarette was just reaching the end.

"I better go in." I said.

With a toast of his bottle he waved me off.

And inside the magistrate'c court it did not get any better. There was an abundant amount of people with very short hair, and the occasional tatoo of "Love - Hate" on their knuckles.

I was not even sure what worried me more, my own feeling of relief that I had had a haircut before Easter so I did not stick out like a sore thumb, or the amount of smiling nods I received.

And before long, my new friend came in as well. Seeing his lawyer he whispered to him "Don't tell the court that I was having a drink outside." as if this odour and his uneven walk would not have give that away.

He then meet one of his mates, apparently in for his own trial, and began to talk to him. I did not catch everything, but heard words like "assault", "bodily harm and "bloody Paki" being dropped.

Looking around me I could only think "Oh, my God, let me out of here pleeeese, I am only here because I did not pay a car fine."

But then my name was being called, and the next chaper in the saga began.

It was like on telly, three guys sitting behind a raised table, the Court Clerk and the prosecutor.

While they were all sitting, I had to stand while my details were being confirmed.

Then the plea. "Guilty."

I explained that I just had forgot the renewal date, and that I tought that I had aready paid all I thought I had to pay.

That seem to take the Magistrate a bit by surprise, however the prosecutor rallied fast and said that this was a different matter as the the sums I had paid had to do with the actual non-paymant of the tax, whereas todays matter was about the fact that "the car was seen on the road without being taxed".

So how come that the sum of £30,82 that was mentioned on the court summons was the same as the one I had paid?

A little bit of hesitation on the side of the prosecution, and then the announcement that the prosecution would need to make a phone call and I would have to leave the court for a few minutes.

When I came back, the Magistrate said that they would take into account that I did try to pay the fine in time, and that they recognised that the tax due was paid as well, so the original fine of £100 was being reduced to £40.

Unfortunately, the court would need to ask for the £60 in court proceedings, so the combined sum would cone to, erm, £100- which I would have to pay immediately.

Brilliant!

Well, actually that is was not was I was thinking, that was more along the lines of "daylight", "highway" and "robbery" with images of men hiding their face behind scarfs.

But heyho, this was the law, and so I paid, and was duely dismissed by the court.

And so ended my day in court.

oh no... but really, no!

Well, I hope so. But I do have to go to the Magistrate Court tomorrow morning.

But really only for a formality... he says.

Well, it all started just before christmas 2008. I was just about to go to work when I found my car clamped outside the house. First I tought I had parked where I shouldn't have, but then I remembered "Hold on a minute, there is no restricted parking in my street."

And then I saw the notice that I had not payed the road tax (as could be seen on the taxdisk which quite clearly stated that my tax was due on the 31 August 2008).

So, a couple of phonecalls later, one to the DVLA to pay the tax (£185), one to the highway robbers who clamped my car who demanded £100 to release it I thought the affair to be settled.

How wrong was I. A few days later I received a letter from the DVLA stating that I had to pay another £40 for the 3 months the tax was due and a penalty of £40. But clearly that was it, I thought.

Wrong again.

A few days later I got another letter from the DVLA stating that I had to pay tax that was due and a fine. Like the first letter it "has been issued by automated process and therefore does not cary a signature". Assuming that my previous payment would have taken care of this reminder letter I ignored it, believing the matter to be resolved.

You guessed it, wrong again.

In March I got a letter from the DVLA summoning me to appear in front of the Magistrates' Court to answer for why I had not payed the fine.

So, tomorrow I will hopefully speak to a real person instead of computers who issue automated responses. And settle the matter once and for all.

Wrong again... ?

I hope not, though the lates letter informs me that the prosecutor will also ask for a minimum contribution of £60 towards legal costs.

Sorry, come again? The DVLA can't get organised to keep their records updated properly and I have to pay?

Well, we will see.

Wish me luck.

Give me a break, this is getting more absurd by the minute.

Don't get me wrong, I am enough of a hypochondriac myself to be worried about (mostly imagined so far) illnesses and diseases I have, but the present obsession with Swineflu is a bit bizarre even for me.

Let's get the facts: so far only 29 death have occured in Mexico that have definately been contributed to Swineflu, only one, an infant, in the US. In all other cases outside Mexico the symtoms have been described as very mild.

A term of "pandemic" does not refer to any fatality rate of a disease, just to the spread of the disease, e.g. being found in population of more than two countries. It does not therefore not equal "killer disease on a global scale" like the Black Plague.

In any given year, the normal flu occuring at wintertime will kill between 8 - 12,000 people in the UK alone, around 20,000 in the more populous Germany.

So why am I subjected to terrified schoolkids from Devon on the TV news,
trembling and crying with fear that they may have contraced Swineflu (implying that they might possibly die of it)?

Is it just my cynical self that, at least at this stage, suspects other motives behind the present hysterical obsession with the Swinefly, notably that the global recession has sudenly disappeared from the News, and with it the actions of Banks, large scale Corporations and the greedy behaviour of (Bank) Managers and the apparent inability of governments to remedy the crisis fast and decisively?

Of course, fighting a flu makes everyone (erm governments, politicians, even the WHO) look good, with the stockpiling of medicine (namely Tamiflu, a reminant of the last global killer disease that was not to be, so wasn't it good that we produced all that stuff back then that would have otherwise gone to waste?) and besides, crying children are so much more pityable than trembling Bank managers with their final salary bonuses.

Conspiracy theorist, me?

...there aren't many, but one is that you can start telling everybody about your evermore increasing ailments and illnesses and they can't object (unless you are male because then you wailed to mothers, girlfriends and wifes all your life anyway). Well, so here is mine:

... nice little bump, ey? Well, I thought so... and it is there for over 2 months by now... hence I wanted to see a GP.

But this being Britain, you don't walk into a medical centre anymore, oh no. Because if you do, a mild mannered receptionist will calmly inform you that you should have phoned first, to describe the symtoms to the receptionist or a nurse, who will then relay them to the GP, who in turm will then phone you to let you know if you need an appointment. Which is al allright if you are a pensioner and have all the time in the world (another one of the positive things when you are older) - unless you so old that you could pop off any moment, or on holiday.

But me, being a member of the oppressed poor, I can not just go home to wait at the side of the phone for the doctor to call me in for an appointment. So that meant any possible appointment would be days away.

So off I went to work ("The GP will phone you just after 9:00" had the receptionist informed me with a rather maternal tone), and low and behold, just after 11:30 I got the call from the doctor (good thing I wasn't in pain then, innit?).

After describing the bump to him ("well, it's a sort of bump on my wrist.... is it on the top or on the back of the wrist, well depends on how I twist my arm?"  "Doh!" - well I didn't say that, of course, always be nice to taxidrivers (unless you lived too long in New York and then you give them hell and they drop you in the middle of nowhere), cooks and waiters (unless you lived too long in New York and then you demand all possible alterations to the dish and can never be sure what "additions" are on the plate when it arrives) or GPs (unless you lived too long in New York... and couldn't possibly afford a good one so you never meet a GP anyway).

After that very scientific description from me, the GP said that it sounded like I had a ganglion ("A what? Arrrgh, what is it, is it like a little alien under my skin?") and I would need to come in and see him.

"Ah, really, funny thing that, coincidentially I just happened to drop in earlier this morning, would have been a such a good opprtunity stop wasting taxpayers money phoning me and using the time for the phone call to actually look at the ganglion yourself there and then..." was another thing I didn't say.

So now I going to see a nurse who undoubtedly will tell him all about the ganglion on Monday and quite possibly one of the outcomes might even be that he needs to see for himself (why is it that terms like "efficiency" never pop up in you mind when you think of England, I wonder).

So, of course, always keen to expand my knowlegde about ganglions, I googled it. "A ganglion cyst (also known as a bible bump) is a swelling that often appears on or around joints and tendons in the hand or foot. The size of the cyst can vary over time. It is most frequently located around the wrist and on the fingers. The term "Bible Bump" comes from a common (but discouraged) treatment of pounding on the cyst with a Bible." ...riiight, pound it with a Bible....

ewwwwww....

Well, not much of a Bible person myself, that presents a little problem, and I wonder, would it also work if I used a Star Trek DVD instead?

Well, perhaps I just wait until Monday and see what the nurse recommends, because one of the things that doesn't get better with age is the tolerance to pain (unless you are male and then chances are you always have been a bloody whimp when it came to pain threshhold in connection with diseases such as the common cold)

You might remember that I applied some time ago for joining the European Space programme: (here is the blog entry in case you missed it)

I just read in the paper that one of the volunteers is a German, so it was really close...

Final European crewmembers announced for human Mars mission simulation

After a selection process that started with some 5600 applicants, ( and I was one of them )the final four European candidates began training for the Mars mission simulation last month. From these four candidates, ESA has now selected the two who are assigned as prime crewmember and the two who will act as their backup, stepping in to replace a prime crewmember right up until the last moment if necessary.

Selected for the prime crew are Oliver Knickel, a mechanical engineer in the German army, and airline pilot Cyrille Fournier from France. Cedric Mabilotte and Arc'hanmael Gaillard, both from France, are assigned as backup crewmembers.

(...)

The purpose of the Mars500 study is to gather data, knowledge and experience to help prepare for a real mission to Mars one day. The participants will act as subjects in scientific investigations to assess the effect that isolation has on various psychological and physiological aspects, such as stress, hormone regulation and immunity, sleep quality, mood and the effectiveness of dietary supplements.

http://www.esa.int/esaCP/SEMS3LBDNRF_Life_0.html

... oh, well, I am not in the army and I am not a mechanical engeneer, but other than that I think it could have been me... sigh

Oh well, I guess I have to stay in Brum for the moment and make the best of it...

I like it, jetsetting from one location to the other... well or carsetting as the case may be. After sunny Prague and a grey rainy week in Birmingham I am now off to Zeithain again, to do my annual workcamp.

This time I go by car, that should be much more comfortable, I can listen to music, sleep at car parks if need be without the fear of being drenched by rain or have the bags stolen from my motorbike and oh boy, you should see the amount of stuff I am able to bring. Not like before with the motorbike where I had to decide between another pair of sock or perhaps better another t-shirt? No, just throw it all in, the car is big enough

I am looking forward to my main holiday, though Prague was brilliant.

Just after arriving in Prague, I was a bit worried at the beginning if I would still find my way around or of I should have brought the map along, but soon my feet did all the navigation and it was as if I had just left yesterday, not 9 years ago. Of course, Prague has changed, which city wouldn't after such a long time, but naturally, all the important buildings are still there, and the view over the Vltava to the castle on a sunny day is still stunning (especially when one has just arrived from Birmingham).

But walking around with my friends Tim and Katia, visiting some of the ould haunts, I realised that Prague is more that just a beautiful city - it is the place where I lived and had quite a lot of friends, the vast majority now being elsewhere. So walking around at 10 o'clock with all the other tourists in the morning was a unique experience - after all I hardly did that all those years ago, because either I was working by then teaching or, if being a weekend, I would still be sleeping.

So my stay, though short as it was, was just long enough to remember the good times but not that long to get all melancholy.

It has been a long time since I left, almost 9 years, but finally I will make it back to Prague - if only for a weekend.

Together with my friends Tim and Katia (and her mother !?!) I will fly out on Friday.

Incredibly, I have managed to book a room in my favourite hotel, well, while I was in Prrague, I only marvelled at it from the outside - the art nouveau style (Grand-)Hotel Europe (well they write it Evrope, but I am sure this means Europe in comtemporary writing) on Wenceslas Square. And no, I did not have to sell all my worldly possessions to do to - actually, it is quite cheap over July and August - about £30 ( and they even offer a 20% discount on that) - brilliant.

But look at the pictures of the interiour - http://www.evropahotel.cz/photo.php - nice, eh?

But I wonder how many more McDonald's or Dunkin Donuts have popped up all around it, and how many other things have changed.

But for one thing I am certain it hasn't changed - the beer. I can't wait to have my first pivo standing in front of me...

Cheers