Results

I suppose all that work last year was worth something, after all. I've received my results from the University of York, and I now have an MA! It's official. And perhaps most surprisingly, it feels good. It hasn't exactly been on my mind a lot recently. It's odd how quickly you can move from one phase of life into another, but my time in York seems distant now. Actually being awarded a degree brings it into focus a little.

So what are the practical implications? Two-fold, actually. 1) I get to write Craig Hopton MA on my correspondance (though I won't); and 2) I can select "obtained" instead of "expected" for my Masters degree on job application forms. As you can tell, this is quite a monumental occasion.

I suppose everyone else I know from York must be getting their results too. Well done all - you've worked hard and you deserve it.

Exercise

Have a look at this story. Apparently, I live in one of the three fittest regions (Macclesfield) in the UK. Well, strictly speaking I live in Congleton borough, but my jogging route takes me into Macclesfield borough, so I think that counts. Don't you?

Oxford

This is Oxford's newest hotel: Malmaison. In the foreground is Becky - say hello, Becky. You might be thinking, hmmm, that hotel looks suspiciously like a prison. That's because it IS a prison, or was, I should say. HMP Oxford was closed in 1996. The Council had to decide how to preserve this piece of heritage and in the end chose to sell it to a hotel chain. A great idea - the result is a wonderful piece of architecture. The hotel rooms are made up of two or three cells knocked together, and use the original three-inch thick doors. All the old stairs, exercise yard, corridors have been kept intact. Go Oxford.

Goostrey to Wembley in Eighty Days

What an astonishingly exhausting day. Some people will go to the most extraordinary lengths to see the bands they idolise - and now I'm one of them. I'm not sure I've ever done so much travelling or been on so many delayed trains. Goostrey-Wembley is not a journey I would recommend to anyone.

When Becky and I stepped off the tube at Wembley Park we were rewarded by the sight of the new Wembley Stadium with it's glorious arch stretching across the skyline (I should stress that I didn't take this picture!). Ah, football... but of course we had to turn aside and proceed to the much smaller Wembley Arena next door.

We stood pretty near the front, feeling very chuffed with ourselves, until we discovered we had to stand waiting a further two hours before Muse came on. By this point the crowd was rabid. We barely had any room to move. And when the first chord was struck, everyone surged forward crushing us in a heaving mass of 17-year old A Level students. We didn't last long before we were fighting our way to the back!

All in all, it was an excellent show. The audience alternated between a state of possessed exuberence and bored dehydration. I was no exception. Unfortunately, Muse themselves didn't seem very excited by the occasion, but that didn't stop them putting on a good performance. Yes, we all had a good old sing-song. And next time I go to Wembley, it'll be with Three Lions on my shirt.

Why politicians should sack their aides

The news that Blair has publicly admitted that western intervention in Iraq has been a disaster may come as a surprise to some, but it will be welcome to most, if only because it will allow Britain to continue its work in Iraq more fully aware of the challenges our troops face. Even more surprising is that he made the comment in an interview with David Frost!

But don't jump out of your seats yet. Blair's spokesmen are already trying to pull the plug on Blair's remark, saying "he was simply acknowledging the question in a polite way before going on to explain his view" and didn't actually agree with the remark that Iraq has been a disaster. Well, judge for yourself:

Frost asked him whether Western intervention "has so far been pretty much of a disaster"?
Blair replied: "It has".

Just a polite acknowledgement? Or an honest and open answer? Which would Blair's spokesmen rather we interpreted it as?

A nice image for you

Story in the Daily Mail yesterday:

"I thought only women got osteoporosis - until my back exploded on the dance floor."

Muse-ic

I'm going to my first ever rock concert next week. I haven't been this excited since I was more excited than this.

A review in The Times today says, "Ablaze with kaleidoscopic lights, supersized video screens and a hydraulic riser mounted on what looks like an upturned Dalek, their retro-futuristic stage show is unlike anything seen since the heady heyday of 1970s progressive rock". Oh, goody! "The cumulative effect here was rather like being force-fed an endless supply of overrich chocolate cake". Mmmm, yummy!

Still on my way

Time for an update on my job-hunting, I think.

So far I have had one interview and lots of rejections. On the other hand, I am currently employed so things aren't all that bad. On Sunday, we had to try out food from the new menu at the pub, and got paid for out exertions. I guess I can cope with this existence for a while yet.

I've thrown myself wholeheartedly into a couple of graduate schemes: the Civil Service Faststream and the Local Government Graduate Development Scheme, but I can't say that I'm entirely enthused by either of them. Still, I do have a Faststream assessment centre in December to look forward to.

I also have ongoing applications to the Metropolitan Police (! - but actually I quite fancy that one), and the Privy Council Office, both of which look promising.

And if anyone reading this needs a shelf fixing or lawn mowing, I'm sure that for a reasonable price I can tell you to get lost.

Light and movement

Yesterday I went to another careers fair. In Birmingham this time - the National Exhibition Centre. Birmingham's actually harder to get to than London. I had to change trains twice both directions. It wasn't a bad day, but I've nothing exciting to report so I experimented with my digital camera instead.

These are three photos of the same walkway in the NEC, but taken with different settings. Cool, no? I can't remember which settings go with which picture though , so I've still got plenty of room to improve!

Frustrate their knavish tricks

Next February we are to get a new £20 note. Edward Elgar, the Worcester composer, is to be replaced by Adam Smith, the eighteenth-century founder of modern economics and author of The Wealth of Nations.

Adam Smith will be the first Scot to appear on a British banknote. This is simply unacceptable. The Scottish already have their own currency. In fact, they already have Adam Smith himself - on £50 notes. They should keep their grubby hands off British money, or scrap Scottish notes altogether.

This is just the thin end of the wedge. Scotland now has its own parliament, but still elects MPs to Westminster to decide on issues only affecting England. Now they want to be represented on someone else's currency too! You know what we should do about it?

Nothing. 'Cos who really cares?

Contemplation

I was struck by this painting in the Guardian's list of 20 must-see works of art. It is by Rembrandt, and is a portrait of Aristotle contemplating a bust of Homer (1654). The imagined confrontation of these two intellects is striking. Aristotle's eyes are tired and disillusioned, but Homer's, though dead, are wide, full of vision. The Guardian comments:

"So a man who profitably serves power admires the innocent unworldly artist Homer. Homer's dark poetic eyes, that truly see, fathom what Aristotle's reason cannot".

Ok, so the point is a little trite - but I love it anyway. It reminded me, more than anything else, of another imagined meeting of minds worked into art.

This is Rheinhold's "Philosophizing Monkey", a miniature famously kept by Lenin on his desk. An ape sits on a pile of books, one of which carries the label "Darwin", and studies a human skull, hand on chin. It's not quite a Hamlet moment - but you have to love the irony.

I just thought that the look in the ape's eyes was very similar to that in Rembrandt's Aristotle. The skull, dead like Homer, seems to be having the last laugh.

I'm not sure which of these four figures I relate to best. They all touch me in different ways.

Anyway, if you have 20 favourite paintings of your own to share the Guardian website is the place to go to let people know about them.

Coincidences

I went to a local church yesterday. A pretty average Anglican affair - but that's just what I was looking for. I could only get to the 9.15 service, and there was no-one my age.

I hung on for a bit, drank some coffee looking very lonely and waited to see who might turn up for the family service. As fortune would have it, I met a very pleasant guy my own age called Rob wearing a fashionable tie.

He works for an estate agents, but it turns out that he went to Durham University the exact same three years that I did - and lived in the college next door to me! How did we miss each other? Well, that's easy actually. Collingwood College and Grey College are the bitterest of enemies. Grey can't stand Collingwood because they know we're better, and Collingwood can't stand Grey because they're so puny. Rob said he only chose Grey College because they had a better pool table; I only visited Grey College to steal their cue ball. Thank goodness I've matured so much since then...

An apparition

My little brother Thomas just bought this Halloween costume for £8. Amazing what you can get from Tesco nowadays. The only problem was that one of the gloves was missing. But Thomas, undeterred as ever, cunningly disguised this fault by hanging a bat from his hand.... Obvious, really.

When I got home he jumped on me from behind. Evil boy! Today's youth don't know their place.




Considerate individual that he is, Thomas also ensured I had a costume. Can you guess which one's Thomas and which is me? Here's a clue - I generally keep my teeth in better shape.

I don't on the whole enjoy fancy dress. It can often be costly and is rarely fun. I've been to parties where I haven't bothered and everyone else has overdone it, and I've been to parties where I've really gone for it and no-one else is bothered. It's best just not to suggest it in the first place. Better still, don't have any parties. There's an episode of Black Books where Manny excitedly calls out, "let's pppaaaaarrrtttt -" to be interrupted by Bernard: "Don't you dare use the word party as a verb in my house!"

Too right.

Ouch!

So yesterday's interview was a complete disaster. Never mind. It just shows you the value of preparation. I could barely answer any of the questions put to me. If you're thinking of applying to the Foreign Office any time soon, just ask and I can give you some tips.

Still, the great thing about living in England is that if something bad happens in the middle of the day you can always go to a pub and get a pint. I ordered London Pride. Hopefully I will have lots more of that in the future.

How r u?

Predictive text is a good measure of the state the world is in. On a mobile phone with this incredible piece of technology, a strict hierarchy is placed on words with similar letters, such that an ardent texter can easily enter "he" when she meant "if", or "of" when she meant "me".

I'm sorry to report, folks, that by the measure of predictive text the world is in a sorry state.

"Beer" is ranked firmly below "adds".

"Pint" is ranked below "shot" and "riot".

"Joy" is considered less important than "low".

And "cheer", believe it or not, is forced to give way to "aides".

Is one not permitted to have fun anymore? I only wanted to send a text about my night out and I end up telling people that my aides have reported that the shot adds to the riot.

And if you disagree with me, if you think that hedonistic words like "beer" and "cheer" should be kept in their place, then you will be aghast to discover that when you try enter the innocent verb "sew" into your phone, it returns the disgusting noun "sex". How the world has changed...

First Interview

Tomorrow I have an interview at the Foreign Office. Wish me luck!

Do not ask for whom the bell tolls...

Here's my pub. Come and visit it. You will receive a warm welcome. And if you order coffee, you'll receive a little biscuity-thing too.

Why is it called the "Bells" you may ask? Because of the church next door? No - because it was once owned by a family called "Bell". Sorry, that's not very interesting really.

The last two days have shown me two sides of the catering industry. Yesterday, Sunday, the busiest day of the week, two of my colleagues called in sick. Instead of five waiters, we had only three (including inexperienced me). I had to work 10 hours straight with no breaks and no food. At one point the chef refused to cook anything else because the meals weren't getting taken out quickly enough. But we got through it.

Today, on the other hand, I did three hours over lunchtime. Relaxed, pleasant - ah yes, the perfect job. Who needs excitement, or stress, or challenges? But on second thoughts, I didn't earn as many tips as I did yesterday...

When poetry feels like poetry

Some poetry just feels as if it was destined to be written from the beginning of time. Check out this from Lord Byron:

"Once more upon the waters! yet once more!
And the waves bound beneath me as a steed
That knows his rider. Welcome, to their roar!"

(Childe Harold's Pilgrimage, Canto 3, 2).

Three things about Cheshire

I am starting to reflect more on Cheshire since the Goostrey exhibition. It's not my favourite county, but I'm becoming a little less cynical about the place. Here's three things to ponder.

1. Goldplated: the new Channel Four show about the Cheshire high life. What nonsense. Avoid at all costs. This isn't about Cheshire, it's about the parlous state of modern TV drama. Cheshire is much nicer.

2. Old People: there's plenty. I catered for the Natwest Pensioners coffee morning yesterday. What wonderful people they are. Very demanding about their coffee, but a cornerstone of society. I can't wait to be one.

3. Nantwich: lovely. I never give it a second thought, but I went with my Mum today and it's a beautiful little town. Tip: don't eat at the Cafe de Paris.

Ok - it's not much, but it's a start.

Civic pride

I have a wonderful little brother called Thomas, who is seven years old and attends Goostrey Primary School (left). Schools have become very important places in modern society; alongside pubs, they're the only true local "community" centres, now that church attendances have dropped. Goostrey School is currently celebrating its 150th anniversary. All the children have been involved in creating an exhibition on Goostrey's history. Today, I went to have a look.

I thought I knew quite a lot about my village. I am particularly proud to have been the person to create the Goostrey wikipedia article. How mistaken I was. There were displays on all sorts of aspects of village life, from the Victorian period to evacuees in the war to the importance of Jodrell Bank Observatory. The centre-piece was two 3D maps of Goostrey, showing the village in 1856 and again in 2006. You can see here how much it changed (below right).

Among other things, I learnt that the local viaduct was built by 150 men living in a shanty town; that the current church dates from 1798; and that, in 1959 (?), a man heroically snatched two babies from an oncoming train (his commemorative silver clock was on display).

Yet the most impressive thing about it was how the "community" suddenly coalesced in this insignificant school hall. I turned up at 2pm when the exhibition started, but already the Rev. Otley was present with a small group of elderly residents, accompanied by His Honour the Mayor of Congleton ("just call me Andy"). There was one display about Mrs Kettle, owner of a much-loved bits-and-bobs shop in Goostrey. Other parents and relatives soon turned up.

Later I was talking to my mother about whether "British identity" is threatened by internationalism and immigration. She thought it was, but I argued that actually identities become strongest when they are under threat. Goostrey is the same. There isn't really a "village community" any more. The old farming community has been swamped with rich commuters and pensioners who come and go. But as soon as village life starts to disintegrate, people panic and the identity is given new, enduring life. Last year the Rose Day celebrations became a huge event, and a scarecrow competition was held that is becoming a new tradition. There have been initiatives to improve the park and oppose a gas plant. And now, this celebration of 150 years of village life.

In a way, this new identity is artificial. The community is forced. People move to Goostrey aged 35 looking for a rural idyll, and when it looks to be disappearing they have to create it themselves. But today I developed a new affection for it. Who cares how communities are created, as long as we have them. People now start online "communities" based on their interests. Universities are becoming more important "communities" for the young adult. Is British identity under threat? No - as in Goostrey, British identity is just beginning.

I do have a job really

Despite my persistent claims to be job-hunting, I actually already have a job. At least, I do now. I started work tonight at a local pub called The Bells of Peover. I'll get a picture soon. It was extremely confusing as I have no catering experience and had to direct all my spare brain power to determining which were starter forks and which main forks.

The staff seemed friendly enough. And pretty varied, too. I have this new scheme where when I meet people I try to remember their names. It sounds very simple, but I've never done it successfully before. I think it's working: today I met Richard, Chris, Olly, Tracy, Ross, Ronny (? a woman), Sian, Zadine (I think), Esmelda, John and Tony. I won't say anything about any of them yet in case they become my friends and read this later. I'm sure they're all lovely people.

London (again)

Look where I've just been. Flashy, eh? Back to London for the second time in four days. Except on this occasion I took the train - and I didn't get the wrong day! It was a careers fair for working in the not-for-profit / public sector.

I've never properly considered working for a charity. I assumed they wanted volunteers, not employees. So it was quite enlightening to discover that Cancer Research UK has a graduate training scheme for corporate services and marketing. I felt like I was talking to someone from Deloitte.

The perfect metaphor for happiness

In this month's issue of Prospect, there's an article on the relationship between happiness and wealth. This is just the sort of thing that I love to read - it's such a wonderfully callous way to approach things. I remember reading a similar article last year which said that the No.1 factor for happiness is getting enough sleep, and that there is no relationship between money and happiness beyond basic essentials (food, water, shelter).

The Prospect article agrees, but it has a caveat. Although there is no connection between income and self-reported happiness (they do these surveys by simply asking you how happy you are), there is a connection between happiness and GDP growth. People are consistently happier in countries where GDP is steadily rising, even though it makes no difference what the actual GDP is (An Angolan can be happier than a Norwegian as long as the country's GDP is rising).

But what got me about this article is the metaphor he uses to describe the importance of steady GDP growth: "Imagine a guillotine, on which a kitten is strapped, connected to a bicycle that must be pedalled ever more quickly to keep the blade aloft. Slow down, and the kitten gets it." Yeah - I bet that kitten's as happy as can be!

It reminded me of a poem by Sheenagh Pugh, on "The Pursuit of Happiness":

"But he only said
you had a right to chase it:
he never mentioned

catching it up. [...]

And if you caught it,
if you ever did,
wouldn't it taste stringy,

all muscle and disappointment,
and what would you do
with the rest of your life?"

Yes, Sheenagh, I imagine the kitten would taste pretty stringy. Keep pedalling, everyone!

A career in transport?

What an amazing day, yesterday. I got to mess around in London. But why was I there?

I went to attend an Open Day for "Transport for London" (TfL for those in the know), who are the body responsible for... well, yeah, you got it. It ran from 10.30-3.30. I knew from many childhood trips that the journey to London takes about three hours, so I set forth at half six in the morning. Half six, you hear me! That's earlier than seven! But not early enough. By the time I got to Birmingham I was stuck in traffic.

The problem with traffic jams is not that they delay you - you expect them to do that, and deep down you're glad for the excuse to be late for something. The problem is that you just get bored. I was stuck all the way from Birmingham to Luton. I felt like just turning round and going home.

By the time I got to the edge of London I was already way late for the event. I hurriedly tried to find a spot to park, but London isn't designed to be helpful for people who don't know what they're doing (like me). It took another half hour before I sighted a tiny spot by the side of the road and performed, under pressure, the most exquisite parallel park London has ever seen. As any man will tell you, nothing can give you as much pride as a perfectly executed parallel park.

It was about 12 by this time, and when I got off the tube at London Bridge I realised that I didn't have a pen and paper. Of course there were no newsagents in sight, so I was forced to dart into the London Dungeon gift shop, against the protestations of the staff ("this isn't the entrance"). Fortunately, the venue for the TfL conference wasn't hard to find. It wasn't until I walked confidently into a Lloyd's TSB business meeting brandishing my sharpened Jack the Ripper pencil that I realised I'd got the wrong day.

Still, who can complain about having an unexpected day out in London? I didn't leave empty-handed. Here you can see my certificate for climbing all 311 steps of The Monument (that's its full name). Maybe there is something that can make a man more proud than parallel parking.

Splash!

These pictures just needed to be published. Cheers Alison!

Manchester united

I spent the day in Manchester. It's starting to look familiar now - I can even find my way around without a map. It's a pretty decent city, all in all. Makes me wonder whether I need to go to London after all.

I had a bit of a wander around and came across a Mongolian restaurant. Cool, eh? I've never seen a Mongolian restaurant before. I thought Mongolia was the backwater of all backwaters. What is it doing here in Manchester? On the door was a map of the Mongol Empire, which I just happen to know is the second largest empire in history (and the largest contiguous empire in history), so there. They let you select all your meat raw and cover it in sauces and then they cook it for you. Might be worth a try.

Then I went to a church service (my main reason for going into Manchester on a Sunday). I feel like I haven't been to church in months. It was called King's Church (yeah, I've figured out hyperlinks, too). It was the most multicultural event I've ever seen - fantastic. They had all these flags up from all around the globe, and practically a cross-section of the world's population singing on stage. And the first person I met there? A Mongolian.

Integrity

In a recent episode of Extras, Ricky Gervais accidently insulted a boy with autism. The show satirised the media frenzy resulting from his character's error by tracing how the media exaggerated the story until the papers were reporting that he hit the boy and his mother. He was only able to save himself by buying the boy a Nintendo.

Tabloid stuff, you might think. Well, not anymore. Observe the comparable frenzy resulting from Jack Straw's recent ill-judged remark about Muslim women's veils. Newsnight got caught up in it after it emerged that the same day, a woman had her headscarf snatched from her at a bus-stop. Kirsty Wark was clearly personally aggravated by the whole thing. In her interview with two Muslim women, she repeatedly tried to trick them into admitting they were forced to wear veils by their husbands. Later, in the studio, she got her guests ranting about this terrible society where a woman could have her veil snatched off her face. It wasn't a veil, Kirsty! It was a headscarf. Loads of people wear headscarfs! What will we hear tomorrow - that the man at the bus-stop hit her too? I hope he can afford that Nintendo.

My first plug

I just got my car back on the road! That's makes me happy. Unfortunately, it's only so that I can sell it. Bad news for me. But it could be good news for you... if you want a six-year old Ford Focus! Once I've got my act together I'll post a link here so you can buy it. It's very nice.

Remember this, anyone?

I'm only very slowly figuring out how blogging works. Today I thought I'd give photos a go. I haven't got anything to take a photo of, so I've dug up an old one from November last year. This is me and my friends at Lendel Cellar (a pub) in York. If you don't know me, I'm the guy looking at the camera and smiling far too luridly. Maybe it's because I've got a full pint in my hand. Ah, those were the days...

Britannia rules the waves

I have decided to teach myself about the British Empire. Now I'm done with my history degree, I have the freedom to read whatever popular history books I want in my spare time. So I picked up Niall Ferguson's Empire: How Britain Made the Modern World. It's a race through 400 years of colonial history, but what fun! I expected to read all sorts of terrible stories about slave-driving and ethnic extermination, but no - Niall has taken the brave decision to make the British Empire look good. Like I said, what fun!

He acknowledges all the terrible things about the Empire, but then gives a big yawn and gets on to the more interesting patriotic stuff. Here's a few things I've learnt:

1) In 1775, the trade revenue from Jamaica was fives times greater than all the American colonies put together. There was barely any support in London for the war against the American rebels. Why shouldn't our fellow overseas Britons have their own government? And, anyway, they had no economic value to us.

2) The Boston Tea Party was not a protest against tax on tea - it was a protest against a reduction on tax that meant the East India Company decided to unload all its surplus in America rather than in Britain where excise was greater. As one American said at the time, "Will not posterity be amazed when they are told that the present distraction took its rise from the parliament's taking off a shilling duty on a pound of tea, and imposing three pence, and call it a more unaccountable frenzy, and more disgraceful to the annals of America, than that of witchcraft?"

3) In the seventeenth century, the famous East India Company (which later took control of the whole of India) struggled to compete with the Dutch East India Company, which was better organised and better financed. The solution? A merger (of sorts): the 1688 "glorious revolution", which made the Duke of the Netherlands the King of England.

4) When slave-trading in the Empire was ended in 1807, it was met with protests not from plantation oweners, but from African chiefs (!) who relied on selling Africans as slaves for their wealth. As King Gezo put it, "The slave trade has been the ruling principle of my people. It is the source of their glory and wealth. Their songs celebrate their victories and the mother lulls the child to sleep with notes of triumph over an enemy reduced to slavery. Can I, by signing a treaty, change the sentiments of a whole people?"

The fact is that this unashamedly Brito-centric account keeps surprising me. This has a lot to tell us about how far the study of history has come. When the post-colonial narrative has become the dominant one; when there are calls for an official apology from the government to descendants of slaves; when the suppressed narrative is the nationalistic one - that's when we can be proud. This book is a testimony to that progress.

To end, I thought I'd just add a little quote from 1854. It's scary because it sounds an awful lot like the attitude of the West in 2006. Do we really live in a post-imperial world?

"When the contrast between the influence of a Christian and a Heathen government is considered; when the knowledge of the wretchedness of the people forces us to reflect on the unspeakable blessings to millions that would follow the extension of British rule, it is not ambition but benevolence that dictates the desire for the whole country." (Macleod Wylie)

Britons never, never will be slaves...

Why I'm a hypocrite

State control of the media has to be one of the most abhorrent characteristics of any government. We gasp in horror when we hear that Somalia has banned radio stations from broadcasting music, that Turkey is prosecuting an author for "anti-Turkishness" or that China has starting vetting foreign news reports. State control is a symbol of growing oppression, of withdrawal from the international community, of a distrust of one's own citizens.

How come, then, that in Britain we have the BBC? The BBC is a state-funded media giant. It accounts for 26% of all television viewing and 47% of all terrestrial television viewing. The BBC also accounts for 55% of all radio listening, national and local - more than all the hundreds of commercial stations put together! It is an affront to our media's liberty and our citizens' liberty. If we want to watch TV, we have to pay for a licence and fund the BBC, whether we want to use the BBC or not. It is an embarassment to this country's values. Any self-respecting liberal democracy should jettison it immediately.

How come, then, that in Britain we love the BBC? You never hear anyone call for the BBC to be disbanded. We grumble about our licence fees, but we love radio stations with no commercials. We love to watch Match of the Day or the latest dramatisation of Jane Austen. We love the BBC news website, and we know that people all over the world love it too. I am no exception. My radio consumption is split between BBC Radio 2, Radio 3, and Radio 4 (BBC comes up with the best station names, too!). I watch Newsnight, the Daily Politics and Question Time (I know, I know...). How do I square this with my views on the role of the state?

This is one of the great paradoxes of politics. If I lived in a country with no state media, and the government said, right, we're now going to tax you £100 a year and start making our own broadcasts, I would be horrified. No-one would want it. But now that I do have the BBC, I wouldn't want rid of it ever. I can understand why Americans value the right to carry arms for self-defence. I can understand why that's an important expression of their liberty. But even though I live in a country where that liberty is denied, I don't want it - we seem to get along fine without guns.

Does this mean I am inconsistent? I don't know. All I know is that given the choice between the BBC and guns, I'd choose the BBC every time. And I'll still think of myself as a champion of civil liberties.

Patience, not complacence

Is there a scarier transition in one's life? Progressing from an easy, exciting student life to the difficult, unknown world of - employment. Shudder! It's probably even more scary then when you grew up knowing you would leave school for the coal mine. At least then you knew what was coming. Choice brings insecurity. Unfortunately that's the case for so much in modern society: democracy; women's rights; drinks you've never heard of at Starbuck's...

But at the end of the day, who wants to work in a coal mine?

I've applied to a variety of jobs already: the Foreign Office; Essex County Council; a development consultency firm; Immigration control; the Treasury; even an editor at Encarta! So far I've had no rejections, but I've only got one interview (at the Foreign Office), and that's not until October 24th! In the words of Samuel Beckett, "In the meantime nothing happens". Patience is my watchword. My track record shows that I have a worrying capacity for turning patience into its arch-nemesis: complacence. My challenge is to avoid doing so again.

Did I really do this?

I just handed my dissertation in. Wow. And best of all, I'm really pleased with it.

Today marks the symbolic end of a year. I've got an 80 page monster to show for this part of my life. Sometimes, when I'm studying, the most frustrating part is that my labours never seem to achieve anything. My most rewarding activity this year was volunteering at a 'Homework Club' in the local library. But then you reach the end of the degree and out comes this creation, in black and white, with your name on it. I can't help but be proud.

What's the matter with Kansas?

An article in the Guardian looked at an peculiar quirk in Americans' voting habits. In 2004, the 10 states with the lowest household income all voted Republican. The 5 states with the steepest falls in income also all voted Republican. Curious, because aren't poor people supposed to vote Democrat? A book by Thomas Frank, called What's the Matter with Kansas?, blames this phenomenon on "values" voting (gay rights and abortion). The poor, he says, have been hoodwinked into voting against their economic interests.

Well, actually, Mr Frank is wrong. The problem is not that poor people are voting Republican, but that they aren't voting at all. According to CNN polls, 63% per cent of those who earn less than $15,000 a year and 57% of those who earn between $15,000 and $30,000 voted Democrat. But the turnout for those earning less than $20,000 was only 48%.

The reason that the poorest states all vote Republican has nothing to do with the poor, because they aren't voting. Something else is going on. According to the Guardian, it's the rich people that you need to look at. In wealthy states, the rich split their votes between Republicans and Democrats. But (and this is the important bit), rich people in poor states always vote Republican. So the poor states always turn out red.

If the Democrats want to win an election, the answer is quite simple. Develop policies that appeal to the poor. There's a whole load of them just waiting to vote for you if it looks like it's worth it. According to US census figures, since 2000 poverty has risen by 7%, and median household income has fallen by 3%. As everyone surely knows by now, the question is not What's the matter with Kansas?, but What's the matter with the Democrats?

Which life?

The magazine The New Humanist is run by the Rationalist Association. I love that there is a contemporary publication devoted to humanism. This is a worthy cause. I do not love that Borders in York stocks The New Humanist but does not stock any Christian journals.

The Rationalist Association does not appear to oppose religious beliefs, just religious dogma. However, on the inside cover of the current issue of The New Humanist is an advert by a different group, the British Humanist Association. I notice that their slogan is: "for the one life we have". The BHA clearly believes that this commitment to "the one life we have" distinguishes them from Christian organisations. All it reminded me of was the slogan of Christian Aid: "we believe in life before death".

This got me thinking about the attitudes expressed in the above statements. Earlier in the day, a friend of mind had suggested that Christians are more likely to be accepting of the status quo because of their trust in a higher power. An "opiate for the masses", you might say. But my reading of the Gospels is that Jesus persistently exhorts us towards active subversion. We are told to pursue ideals of love, community and faith against the norms of society. He promises a life after death, but all his advice is on how to act in this life.

The British Humanist Association and Christian Aid are opposed on a matter of principle, but their end conclusion is the same: a commitment to the life we are living now. Surely rationalism and a love of Christ are not incompatible?

Superpowers

Amid the many articles about the fifth anniversary of 9/11, I notice the news that China has increased its censorship of the media by banning foreign agencies from distributing their own reports. From now on, the state-owned Xinhua news agency has the power to censor foreign reporting.

Obviously, this is a bad development. It struck me because I've used Xinhua myself to get news about China, and I've always been impressed by its constructive criticism of the Chinese government. On second thoughts, I suppose I've never seen anything there about Taiwan, ethnic minorities or human rights.

David Cameron today spoke against "anti-Americanism", which he says "represents an intellectual and moral surrender". It has often been remarked that America's unilateral approach to the "War on Terror" has lost it much of the worldwide sympathy it gained after 9/11. Certainly there is much in American foreign policy that deserves criticism. On the other hand, if we must have a world superpower, I think I would rather it be America than anyone else, so I'm inclined to agree with Cameron on this one. Previous superpowers, from the Roman Empire to the Mongols to the British, respected other societies far less than the Americans have done. I am grateful the Soviet Union lost the Cold War.

As China grows in confidence, it is worth asking ourselves what sort of superpower it might become. I am no great lover of America, but I know who I would prefer exercising world dominance. Today, as we reflect on the last five years, I hope that anti-Americanism isn't the abiding legacy of 9/11.

Frustrating times

The end of my Masters degree is fast approaching. This should be a time of either intense pressure, elation or panic, but for me it's mostly frustrating.

I have already decided not to go for an academic career so my dissertation seems pretty useless, even though I know I should work hard at it to get a good degree. All I want to do is look forward, but I'm forced to stick firmly in the present until this is all done. I find that hard.

On the positive side, my research has enabled me to learn a lot about national identity and the origins of "Englishness". It has turned me firmly into an anti-nationalist. Why pledge my allegiance to a "nation" when I can pledge it to my family, my friends, my faith, humanity? I've also had the opportunity to read lots of sermons by an enthusiastic eleventh-century archbishop. I can hardly complain.

To beg the question

Acts 3:1-8: Now Peter and John were going up to the temple at the hour of prayer, the ninth hour. And a man lame from birth was being carried, whom they laid daily at the gate of the temple that is called the Beautiful Gate to ask alms of those entering the temple. Seeing Peter and John about to go into the temple, he asked to receive alms. And Peter directed his gaze at him, as did John, and said, "Look at us." And he fixed his attention on them, expecting to receive something from them. But Peter said, "I have no silver and gold, but what I do have I give to you. In the name of Jesus Christ of Nazareth, rise up and walk!" And he took him by the right hand and raised him up, and immediately his feet and ankles were made strong. And leaping up he stood and began to walk, and entered the temple with them, walking and praising God.

What should we do when a beggar asks us for money? It has to be one of the most awkward social interactions, for a Christian or anyone else. Nietzsche said that "beggars ... should be entirely abolished! Truly, it is annoying to give to them and annoying not to give to them." That's often how I feel, but it's hardly the answer.

Occasionally I have spontaneously given a beggar a £20 note, usually out of confusion more than compassion. How can you give money to someone when you don't know if they really deserve charity? Everyone deserves love, but that doesn't mean they deserve financial windfalls! Surely a better way to help homeless people is through organised social work and local government projects. Manchester Cathedral runs a centre for the homeless, for example.

On the other hand, you can't ignore a beggar either. That is plain rude and still leaves you feeling incredibly guilty. That's why the passage from Acts struck me. When Peter was asked for alms, he used the opportunity to help the beggar in a different, more useful way, and witnessed to his faith to boot! Is this a model for us? I can't imagine saying to a beggar, "I've no money, but come to church with me instead." I remember Don Miller in Blue Like Jazz saying that he used to take homeless people to lunch; I can't see myself doing that, either. What is the answer?

To be honest, I think the point of Acts 3 is primarily that no-one should be forced to be a beggar because of a physical affliction. On the whole, today's society is pretty good at protecting the disabled. But that doesn't solve my problem. For now, when a beggar asks me for money, I just acknowledge him and apologise that I don't have any spare change.

Why PR makes sense

I'm interested in American politics. It works very differently from politics here in Britain, or so I thought. Americans seem to split every issue into 'conservative' or 'liberal'. Every newspaper or news channel is either 'conservative' or 'liberal'; every person is either a 'conservative' or a 'liberal'; and every policy is either a 'conservative' policy or 'liberal' policy.

Strangely enough, in Britain we do have a Conservative and a Liberal Party! But, to me, those words don't mean the same things they do in America. My impression in America was that a person's entire political mindset could be extrapolated from any one issue. If you admitted to being anti-abortion, this automatically means that you are also anti-gay rights, anti-taxation, pro-Iraq war and countless other things I know nothing about. But here in Britain, I thought, that doesn't happen. I could quite happily have a discussion with a stranger about abortion while giving him no clues about my political leanings.

Last night, I tested this theory on a French and an English friend. To my surprise, the English friend disagreed. She said that moral, social and economic issues were just as polarised here as in America; that being anti-abortion was inextricably linked to adherence to the Conservative Party, pro-abortion with the Liberals or Labour, and so on. Perhaps she is right; perhaps I have just wilfully ignored the political landscape. Or perhaps British politics is polarised, but just not to such a great degree as American politics. However, the real surprise for me was hearing about politics in France.

The political situation in America and Britain is caused by the electoral "first past-the-post" system, in which only the top candidate in each region is represented in congress/parliament. This stops minority parties getting any power and forces a two-party system (Britain is unusual in that a third party, the Liberals, consistently attracts a sizeable portion of votes, but on the whole it is still a two-party nation).

In France, on the other hand, there is proportional representation. The number of votes equals the number of representatives. This has one significant consequence: minority parties are worth voting for. There are about ten parties in France that get over 5% of the vote: the biggest party only gets about 20%! The problem is that they have to form coalitions before they can govern the country, but think of the advantages! In France, if you care about the environment you don't have to vote Democrats, you can vote Greens. If you are patriotic, you don't have to vote Republican, you can vote Rally for the Republic. If you are socialist, you can vote Socialist or even Communist, and so on. And your vote will count.

Bipolar politics is bad politics. It averages out countless viewpoints into two groups. No-one can vote for the issues they care about without supporting numerous others they don't. Some people say at least it keeps extremism out of politics. On the contrary, the best thing you can do with extremism is keep it in the open. In France, the National Front polls about 12% of votes, but at least everyone knows they'll never actually get in power and they'll never contaminate the moderate parties. In Britain and America, extremism seethes under the surface. Conservatives and Republicans are forced to court right-wing nationalists. It makes me reluctant to vote for the parties I really like. That's not good enough. When will our governments realise the best democracy is genuine, proportional representation?

First Day

Yesterday was the last day of me not having a blog. Tomorrow yesterday will be the first day of me having a blog. Such is the way of the world. By way of introduction, I am a student at York, England. I finish university on 23rd September; I'm looking for a job.

I hope to use this page to do what most people seem to do, to talk about anything I like. I don't have a great deal on my mind today. I just bought two French films - "Baise-Moi" and "Delicatessen". I don't know if they're any good. I was slightly reluctant to buy them, because it makes me look like a World Cinema buff, which I'm not. I just want to learn French.

I should mention that I'm a Christian. This is because I love God, and the Bible tells me He loves me too. Wow. On Sundays, I plan to write my own little eccentric prose-poems in praise. Just to warn you in case my Sunday posts look a bit odd. That's all. Goodnight.