A constructive use of time – historical guesswork

There's a war memorial near where I live, in a place called Greengates. Whenever I drive past it, I see the bit relating to the First World War which says:

In grateful memory of the men of Greengates and district who gave their lives in the Great War 1914-1919

I find this very odd. I've never seen a war memorial that claims the First World War ended in 1919, apart from this one. This memorial was put up in 1921.

This has been puzzling me for a while. I doubt that it's a typo and that I'm the first person to notice it in 89 years. I thought maybe it was talking about soldiers who died of their injuries after the end of the war, which seems rather modern and a bit of a dig at all the other war memorials if it were true.

So, it struck me (while I was writing this, in fact - I started off thinking this post was going to be funny) that in 1921, the idea of "the First World War" we have today – with clear beginnings and ends – probably didn't exist then.

Turns out from my extensive historical research – that is googling "greengates war memorial" and reading the end of the Wikipedia entry on the First World War - that a lot of memorials put up right after the war said 1919, because that's when the Treaty of Versailles was signed. I suppose that even in 1921, one couldn't have been sure it wasn't all going to kick off again, what with fighting going on in Turkey until 1923.

Seeing the Battle of Britain 70^th anniversary commemorations this weekend, and seeing how few people who fought in that are left, it's shocking and strange to think how living history turns into book history.

In 1921, they weren't sure when the First World War ended. Now there is pretty much no one left alive who experienced it and people like me can't work out why they got the dates wrong.

That 1919 in Greengates might be a typo, but if it's not then it's quite a vivid little historical detail.

[The picture above is (c) David Spencer, from here. That pub in the background is up for sale, by the way, if anyone's interested]

It's ALWAYS inconvenient to be late

I believe that everyone has a nemesis, and I think I have pinpointed my own.

My nemesis is someone who works in some kind of policy/public relations role at Northern Rail – specifically, whoever is responsible for the wording of announcements.

I caught the train to work today, which is always a bad start, insofar as paying cash up front for the privilege of going to sell my labour empties me of whatever joy may have been present earlier.

I used to do this every day, when I caught the 7.20 train to Leeds. Please note, I have changed the name of the train to protect its reputation. Anyway, this train was delayed by approximately three minutes every single day. Without fail, I would reach the platform only to hear the announcement.

I made me wonder why - if it was genuinely impossible to keep a train that only runs a route of about 30 miles to schedule – they didn't just change the timetable and make it the 7.23 train. Then they could boast about it being on time every single day.

It may seem petty to complain about three minutes. In reply let me point out:

• It rains here every single day, so three minutes seems like a hell of a long time.
• Three minutes, times 250 working days per year, for around two years, is 25 hours I was waiting that three minutes.
• Four posts in and you still think "it's petty" is a reason why I'm NOT going to write about something?

Anyway, getting to the point...

Let me say this clearly: a recorded apology that you play on endless repeat, only editing the details of exactly which train is late and how late it is does not come across as at all sincere. It's not an apology.

I don't believe for one second that you are "sorry" that the 7.20 train for Leeds is delayed by approximately three minutes, and it demeans both you and me that you (Northern Rail) even pretend to believe that your announcement is anything other than irritating. Just tell us how late the train is going to be. Don't tack on an insincere apology.

But if that was the sum total of my complaint, I'd hardly be justified in calling the announcer my nemesis, would I? There are thousands of irritating little things like that thrown in everyone's way every day. What's so special about the relationship between him (I think of my archenemy as a fat man with cold, dead, insect eyes) and me?

Here it is.

The announcement used to say "we apologise for THE inconvenience this may cause to your journey". Now, it says "we apologise for ANY inconvenience this may cause to your journey".

That's not a coincidence. At some level, a conversation took place which went broadly like this:

"You know, I don't think we should just assume that the train being late is inconvenient for passengers. It might not be. They might like it."

"Hmmm...you're right. We don't want to take on any more blame than we have to."

"Yes, so we shouldn't just presume that there is 'the inconvenience' – we should leave it open, and say 'any inconvenience'."

"Great idea. That way, we're only apologising to people who are actually inconvenienced, and not apologising to those who aren't. Nice one boss."

"I don't give a shit about apologising. It'll be a recorded message anyway. The point is, we take on as little blame as we possibly can."

"Ahhh...I see. Hang on, isn't that all already covered by the word 'may' when we say 'may cause to your journey'? We're not saying that it 'will' cause inconvenience. We're saying it 'may'. We're already disavowing responsibility, aren't we?"

"Maybe, but I think changing 'the' to 'any' is a business-critical step."

"Isn't this all a bit trivial?"

"You're fired."

What possible reason could there be for changing "the" to "any" other than something like the above? And how could it have happened without some thought process like that above taking place and a decision being made to change it?

Why do I care?

It's the sort of linguistic weaselry and low-level attempt at mind control that I can't bear – and as you can see, I can't help imagining that there's someone just as pedantic as me out there working for the forces of darkness.

A constructive use of time – learning German, pt 1

Having recently seen "Julie and Julia" I have decided to insert a theme to this blog over and above "whimsical misanthropy", with the hope of getting my work made into a book and major Hollywood film.

Naturally, I would like to be played by Leonardo Di Caprio in this movie, with whom I share certain irreparable facial creasings between the eyebrows, due to prolific frowning.

Anyway, I want to share with you the experience of learning the German language by way of the Michel Thomas foundation course. Eight CDs and £27 from Amazon, as opposed to the usual RRP of about £80. Not a bad start!

Just learning a foreign language would hardly be gripping enough for a major motion picture, unless of course I arbitrarily impose a deadline – probably of a year. That will undoubtedly give rise to all sorts of dramatic ebbs and flows which will allow compression into a gripping 90 or so minutes.

What I like about the Michel Thomas method is that he asks – nay, demands – that you don't try to learn or memorise anything. I can assure the late Mr Thomas that I will abide scrupulously by that injunction!

He sounds like a fairly interesting character and comes across as very funny on the CDs (he is extremely intolerant of the two students he uses as a teaching aid) ... I will elaborate on my (entirely fictional) relationship with him as we progress.

In the interests of full disclosure: I did three years of German at school, and I watch a lot of programmes on the History Channel, which seem to feature rather a lot of certain aspects of 20th century German history. I am also good at making German-sounding noises.

So I start from a reasonably strong position. In the wise words of Jimmy Nesbitt in an old Yellow Pages ad about yoga: "I see myself as more of an intermediate".

I'll fill you in with all sorts of detail about why I'm doing this and the hilarious and moving experiences I go through in the course of this over the coming weeks. You'll laugh, you'll cry, you'll give me a load of money and learn more about the medieval High German consonant shift than you ever thought possible.

Bis Morgen!