How things have changed in the way we all mourn

No, I thought about it as Herself and I were stuck in a line of traffic outside the old Abattoir at the top of the Albert Pier and I looked up and saw the flag on the principal flagstaff at Fort Regent flying at half mast in honour of Mr Mandela.

What a difference half a century makes to all manner of things, including how we commemorate the great and the good when they die, I thought to myself.

I am old enough to remember Churchill and can recall vividly virtually everything coming to a standstill – both here and throughout the world – as television relayed the events up to and including his state funeral.

I can recall also the authorities here refusing point blank to fly the flag at Fort Regent at half mast as a tribute to one of the greatest wartime leaders Great Britain has ever produced. I remember also reading reports in this newspaper of someone being taken to what was then called the Police Court and, I’m almost certain, fined for entering Fort Regent and lowering the Union Flag to half mast in protest against the decision of the then powers that were not to authorise it themselves.

As I said earlier, comparisons are for the most part odious and one cannot begin to compare Churchill with Mandela – two very different men in very different ages and with very different achievements. I make the reference simply to illustrate how much attitudes and everything else can change in half a century and in this case probably for the better.

My reference to the Albert Pier has just been spotted by Herself who pointed out that people who ought to know better still wrongly refer to it as the Albert Quay – one such being, would you believe it, the Royal National Lifeboat Institution, who on Google (so she tells me) locate their St Helier Lifeboat Station on that non-existent ‘quay’.

ON a different subject altogether but one where I would welcome knowing whether it’s just me who gets bothered by these things, can I say how much I miss being offered carrier bags when I shop and how much I resent being regarded (by some shop staff and fellow shoppers) as some sort of pariah when I bemoan the fact that they are no longer offered.

Before the thought police and tree huggers start beating me around the head with whatever comes to hand, can I stress that I fully understand the arguments against the profligate use of carrier bags and, generally speaking, support the view that far too many were being far too greatly under-used.

However, the practice we used to adopt at Chez Clement was to re-use them for their original purpose as often as possible and then use them to line the bin under the sink and those in the toilet and bathroom. Once the crackdown on use gained momentum Herself started to buy bin liners – not because she particularly wanted to but because it was cheaper doing that than being charged the going rate of 5p for each carrier bag.

What seems to have happened since then is that bin liners have got progressively thinner – thus weaker – and you can rarely get away with using just the one. All well and good people preaching to me about recycling but I can assure them there’s precious little that leaves Chez Clement without being at least considered for further use. Everything that is compostable eventually finds its way into the garden and this not only saves money on fertiliser – we don’t buy any – but helps Herself (whose department this is as I am the hunter for fish and she is the gatherer for fruit and veg) grow some magnificent produce.

Does anyone else face the same carrier bag dilemma?

Part of the refuse disposal problem is caused by the largely unwanted rubbish – excuse the pun – which is shoved though the letter box five days a week, courtesy of Postman Kev and his merry little band of helpers.

That said, I found one little gem last week that has avoided being binned and instead found its way on to the small table adjacent to my armchair upon which also rests during these long winter evenings – although rarely for long – a glass of calvados.

I refer to the little events guide booklet published by the Opera House and Herself and I have already marked a few performances we intend going to. Not surprisingly, she suggested Coriolanus, a live screening of the National Theatre production of which is on 30 January. Whether her eagerness has anything to do with the fact that the last production of this Shakespeare play was at the Arts Centre and quite controversial because a nude scene was banned by the then Bailiff, Sir Peter Crill, is something she declined to discuss.

Also worth marking the calendar for seems to be a Comedy Concert on 8 February featuring, among others, Senator Sir Philip Bailhache and St Helier Constable Simon Crowcroft. For them it probably means shifting from one stage (the Big House) to another although if the miserable looks on the faces of some of their political colleagues when I saw them at the Soup Kitchen in The Square the other week is anything to go by, you feel like asking them how much they’d charge to haunt a house. It’s all getting too picky, dour and nasty for many folks’ liking, I fear.

And finally,

With the Waterworks Company considering banning dogs from the paths around reservoirs, perhaps the selfish minority of dog owners will now start behaving properly. Dogs on leads, under control and pick up mess isn’t too much to ask, surely.