[carnival of cities] support colin campbell and blogpower

I just did it and it's easy:

1] find one of your posts on a city of the world - any one;
2] go over to Colin Campbell's site with the url and click on submit;
3] follow the instructions they give you;
4] take care of your other business, knowing you've done something worthwhile.

Let's get behind Colin on this.

[icelandic dichotomy] two finance heads at odds

Whenever I need a lighter post, I turn to Iceland. Do not think for one second I'm making fun of them. I just love their quaint way of doing and reporting things, that's all - very direct, saying what they think, finding practical solutions and lacking hype and spin.

Take this classic from yesterday: Finance Ministry and Central Bank at odds:

At a public meeting yesterday the Finance Ministry introduced its economic forecast for the remainder of the year, which is very different from the economic forecast recently released by the Central Bank of Iceland.

According to Thorsteinn Thorgeirsson, office manager of the Finance Ministry’s economic department . . . the economy will reach equilibrium towards the end of the year and the Central Bank will reach its target inflation of a 2.5 percent, which will remain within tolerance limits over the next few years.

Thorgeirsson predicted that economic growth would be less than one percent this year, due to a reversal in foreign investment. He also predicted the trade deficit balance would go through a rapid recession and reach almost 16 percent of GDP by the end of the year, due to increased export of aluminium and a decrease in imports. Last year the trade deficit was 26.7 percent.

While Thorgeirsson predicted a soft landing for the economy, the Central Bank predicted a hard transition over the next two years, as the research department of Landsbanki Bank pointed out. Representatives of Landsbanki said the inherent differences in the two economic forecasts are “uncomfortable.”

In the Finance Ministry’s forecast, further large-scale industrial projects are not taken into account, which would have great impact on the economy, as Markadurinn reports.

I appreciate that their business is not really our concern but still - it's an interesting illustration. I'd really like to hear from our economist bloggers and others involved in finance as to whose version to believe.

In other words, who are the professionals here?

[my father] the earthly variety, that is

I find my father difficult to write about and yet that time is about now when … well, you know.

Not a tall man but with wiry strength from hard work, his hands were strong and his hair receded somewhat later but he was never bald. He wasn't a bad looking chap.

It was a question of which got him first, in the end - the emphysema, the hepatitis or the leukemia. From the war years, it was. I didn't understand what was going on because:

a] I was still too young;

b] I'm not always au fait with this sort of thing;

c] He was a bit remote.

I didn't understand why this was but he was always a distant person and even when we did things together, like paint the walls - he was an expert - I'd always feel he was critically judging me, even though he usually praised the job, except for this little qualification or that.

He was a perfectionist.

Anything he touched he did well, until his later years. I wanted a sailboard and he built it, complete with rudder. I wanted a treehut and he built it. Some of it rubbed off and I've since built sheds and fences of reasonable, unwobbly quality.

I once built a small pyramid. He built a complete house.

He wasn't really stern but just seemed that way - one of the old school who neither suffered fools nor bad manners. Especially the latter. I never heard him use bad language. Actually, now I come to think of it, I really can't recall a swearword ever passing his lips.

He'd get angry though and very quickly. My mother, bless her heart, was … well … well … she had the capacity to provoke with a misplaced word or would do something silly, like not understand how to put up the tent on our annual seaside holiday.

I was with my father on this - how could she not understand the instruction when we'd done this thing every year since I could remember, in exactly the same way? I didn't like how he verbally mauled my mother at these times and in these situations, one stayed mauled.

On the other hand, my mother was as tough as nails and never blanched or even flinched. You have to understand we're talking only words here - fluff and foam - nothing of any lasting substance.

They always presented a united front to me so it was only years later I ever found out he never touched anyone in anger, even under severe provocation - he'd say some pretty choice things, straight to the heart of the issue and then he'd withdraw and go to the workshop.

I never knew how sick he really was. When he'd sit in that huge brown armchair, doing nothing but tap with the fingers of his right hand on the armrest, I thought he might be getting a bit lazy.

Fool - me.

He was never lazy and when I went to his workplace for the first time ever, on gold watch day, it wasn't a gold watch but a very nice brown suitcase for his upcoming first trip out of the country since the war. My mother made them go.

One or two of his underlings spoke to me of him and it seems he was as hard a taskmaster at his workplace as he was at home. This was at a time when these values were beginning to go out of fashion, especially with the young. They didn't actually say anything, of course - I just read that in their manner.

Truth was that they respected him but didn't quite know how to handle him, like us, I suppose.

He was a mason for some time and knew the local masonic community and no - he never showed me the handshake but I did see his paraphernalia once. Interesting stuff. Looked Jewish to me. He didn't remain.

Love?

Aye, there's a word, isn't it? I think of D.H. Lawrence and his father sometimes, of sons of that era and their fathers.

Love?

Probably, in that highly respected way and certainly he commanded loyalty. But he kept his own counsel so much and I'd have liked to have been closer but that was not to be.

Love?

Compassion, certainly, especially when I saw his later suffering. I really can't say "love" to a man.

I know I've never ever felt the need for a father figure nor a mother figure and perhaps that came from them. I naturally feel the need to protect, a bit like a mother hen and the need to defend - those instincts course through the veins.

Love?

Well ... yes. All right. Yes.

So now he's departed and she's departed and all of them have departed and wives have departed and girlfriends have departed and friends are in other parts of the world and still I go on.

Ellee Seymour wrote earlier, in a comment, that:

I always light a candle and place it in front of my father's photo and some flowers when it is his anniversary.

That's what I'm going to do now and then say: "Forgive me, father if I haven't represented you as I should. You know I did my best."

I think he's more kindly than I give him credit for. I believe he's possibly looking in on me right now. I think he'll not see the necessity for this post and will think the "forgive me, father" is gratuitously overdramatic but maybe he won't be too annoyed overall.

He'll like the shot of the Five Rise Locks. Pity I don't have a good one of Beckfoot Bridge.

April 26th, 04:00.

[april 25th] anzac day - gallipoli

On 4th August, 1914, England declared war on Germany and Winston Churchill wanted a strong demonstration of the Navy in the Dardanelles, with Constantinople as a final objective.

About 2 in the morning of 25th April, British Admiral Hamilton ordered the 1500 Australians of the covering force to the shore.

What was strange was that the maps issued to the officers bore no resemblance at all to the surroundings. Instead of a flat beach and gently undulating terrain beyond, they were facing shrub-covered rocky formations and cliffs that nearly ran into the sea.

Before long, it became clear what had happened : the force had not been put ashore as intended, but in a small bay 2 km further north. No matter where they had exactly landed, the Australian troops of the covering force did not hesitate to carry out their orders.

They immediately threw off their packs and stormed the heights closest to the beach. Because the boats had landed in complete disorder, the beach itself was soon congested with new troops being landed without knowing in which direction to advance. After a couple of hours, chaos was complete.

They sent a message to Hamilton, who only said, “You have got through the difficult business, now you have only to dig, dig, dig, until you are safe."

According to some sources, this text gave the nickname "diggers", which the Australians would keep for the rest of their history.

Turkish sniping and bombs kept raining down on the Anzacs, who could only hope to throw the bombs back before they exploded. The sea was literally red with blood. For days after the landing, dead bodies would be washed ashore. One third of the troops died for 500 metres result.

As spring came to an end, a plague of flies fed on the unburied corpses, then dysentery and the water supply became a major problem.

The hostility towards their enemies gradually dropped and the Turks were considered as victims of the same deplorable situation. More than once 'presents' were thrown across no-man's land or messages exchanged.

Then the wind started blowing from the north, which led to sleet and snow. The temperature dropped far below zero and the troops had no winter equipment, which had arrived on the peninsula but had then been shipped back for some reason.

Soldiers froze to death while on guard duty, and the transport of supplies broke up completely. Fighting had become completely impossible. Turkish soldiers refused to advance against the enemy.

During the second week of December, the first phase of the evacuation was started.

Every night, numbers of small vessels came to Anzac Cove to pick up the sick and wounded first, then the prisoners of war and finally the soldiers.

The Gallipoli campaign had been a fiasco and it was one of many reasons the army became known as "lions led by donkeys".

[four interesting hours] little bit of shop

Generally we don't blog about our work because it's not … well … interesting to others. This time though I'm going to report on the past few hours.

I saw a formal debate earlier between two teams of girls. What was unusual about this is that even though girls can generally talk the paint off a wall, they don't often, in my experience, like formal debating.

It's a bit like geography. For some reason, it doesn't often gel with girls. This one today, on the topic: "It's all right to lie if the truth would hurt" was fabulous.

The protocol was observed to the letter, they were erudite and it was in English. Points of order and information were used well and they understood the three speaker system.

In point of fact, I had to keep them from each others' throats and some of the comments were as scathing as anything I've posted here. But best of all was that they asked if they could do it again.

In a good mood, I wandered back to the ministry and the Min told me something very interesting. You'd possibly know they were in London two days ago for the economic forum and the PM and my Min were actually allowed onto the floor of the Lords in session, where they observed the debate.

I had no idea this was possible for foreigners but the description of events was pretty exact and I'm sure he wouldn't be telling porkies. He also told me you people had sunshine and about 20 degrees over there.

We, on the other hand, are about to have a gi-normous thunder storm. The sky's almost black by now.

So, an interesting few hours.

[anzac day] gallipoli, 1915

Today is ANZAC Day and a post will appear this evening.

To the Australians, New Zealanders and Canadians meanwhile, our thoughts are with you today on this most special of days.

Also, in the early hours of the 26th, some years ago, my father died. That's tomorrow morning.