Two of my favourite mental tools are OODA loops and the fable of cat belling. I'm going to describe both and then put them together as best I can. Why? Because I think it reveals something useful about "activism", such as it is. OODA loops are an insight developed by an American fighter pilot, John... Continue Reading →
Today I did another 10 lap yomp around the Alexandra Park, with my backpack of bricks and weights, while, er, talking to myself. The reason I blog about this one, and not all the others, is that I hit a couple of milestones that I’ve been struggling towards today. I feel a little bit proud... Continue Reading →
Marc Hudson reflects on two academic events, and wonders if the right questions are being asked, or if "we" are pootling along happily in our comfort zones, slouching towards tenure (well, he's not) and apocalypse (well, all of us are). Over the last 24 hours I've "been" to three online seminars. The one in the... Continue Reading →
Organisations get stale. People get old, and even if they used to walk the walk, now just talk the talk. It happens. TV Smith sings "all my heroes died, while they were still alive. They were dragged down to the hole, where the blood and money flows." Not. Yesterday. Not with Rosemary Randall bringing her... Continue Reading →
It was partly dehydration. I know this. But so what, you take your wins and your milestones where you can. And I did not weaken and allow myself the reward of a veggie fry-up. That sucker is still 700 grammes away. Maybe Thursday, maybe next week. It will be, in Paul Keating's 1993 words, the... Continue Reading →
Back when white nationalism was more mainstream (I mean before the Trump resurgence, I mean, back in the period up to the partial moral awakening that was the 1960s) there was a phrase for people of colour who didn't know their place. "Uppity..." well you can fill in the rest. "Uppity" - as in -... Continue Reading →
These things, they write themselves, more or leese. Letter in today's MEN (28 Jan 2021).
In the same way that when you enter a prison as a cop, you have to give up your weapon. Well, when you enter the prison of the institutions, you have to give up your memory, as well as your spine. Or you can keep the memory but people will look askance and be a... Continue Reading →
I am doing a LOT of yomping around Alexandra Park (2km perimeter, according to GoogleMaps). Mostly with 24 kilos of bricks and weights in a backpack held together with duct tape, while talking to myself on an ancient phone: I run the files through an online converter, and then through Otter.ai which transcribes my words... Continue Reading →
Ten days into January and we already have a clear favourite for the Manchester City Council “Brass Neck of the Year” award. Coun Angeliki Stogia (‘We won’t be intimidated by vandals,’ M.E.N., 10 January) is quoted as saying “we want feedback from as many people as possible.” In a letter last week I pointed out... Continue Reading →
