In principle, I think freecycle is a brilliant idea. We have things we just want to get rid of, and we can give them to people who want them. eBay is all very well, but requires things to be useful and effort around packaging them up.
However, it falls down on the total uselessness and unreliability of individuals. I have found people's behaviour to be shockingly bad. We're trying to get rid of a plant, which at 6 foot is simply too big for our bathroom. I've put it up on freecycle and twice have arranged to have to it picked up, but once the lady in question forgot and the second time, another lady decided on the day that she couldn't wait for half an hour having moved the time of collection without giving me chance to react.
The issue is of course the discipline of pricing. Without it, people are just rubbish. Conventional economic theory argues that transaction costs should be zero, but this suggests that people are reliable - when they are not. One of the fundamental benefits of putting transaction costs on things is that people don't do this kind of stuff. And here's hoping they don't do so; otherwise it's going on eBay.
Wednesday 25 March 2009
Wednesday 18 March 2009
Two wheels good
I've bought a bike - it's very exciting: I reckon, once I stop getting lost, it will cut my time to work by ten minutes and do some valuable exercise. I'm very pleased.
Even more exciting is this little toy, which plots the places where accidents happen - most of the way along my route I discover, though there are worse routes. I am now definitely avoiding the Kings Road. I love this kind of thing and I love the people who took the data (which the government published last week). I need to work out how to plot geodata, save for the risk I may spend much of my time doing it.
Three further observations on cycling:
Even more exciting is this little toy, which plots the places where accidents happen - most of the way along my route I discover, though there are worse routes. I am now definitely avoiding the Kings Road. I love this kind of thing and I love the people who took the data (which the government published last week). I need to work out how to plot geodata, save for the risk I may spend much of my time doing it.
Three further observations on cycling:
- There's a lot of kit to buy. I've been delayed in really getting going for the lack of reflective clothing, but I now have a shiny jacket that will stop me getting killed on the way home
- Tube pricing is still going to be a problem: if only cycle in on 3 days a week (i.e. because I am going out in the evening), it will be economical to retain my annual travelcard. Surely this is bad pricing in a transport system that encourages bike use.
- And why is there no good cycle map online. TfL Directs you to order them so they can send you a pamphlet.
Saturday 14 March 2009
Back to baptism
In one of the filler passages on the excellent BBC website (I'm contractually obliged to say that) there is a rather silly article on people wanting to be debaptised. I can never resist a good argument about baptism, and I'm on my way to Oxford at present, so can really get going.
Theologically, baptism (Christening for those who think about this in other language) seems to get a relatively easy rise in sacramental controversy. No disputes its position as second only to the Queen of Sacraments (I'll save my thoughts on whether that's out of two or seven for later), but whereas the Eucharist has been the subject of wranglings about its significance for most of the history of the church, and continues to excite doctrinal controversy, both around traditional areas - I wish I could persuade my church to revert to red wine - but in new directions as well. I find the inculturation debate around the use of bread and wine in particularly African liturgy fascinating.
By contrast, there is a brief flurry of activity over baptism in the early church around validity (hence Nicaea - Constantinople's one baptism), a gradual movement towards infant baptism, which remained rare even in late antiquity, and another flurry about that adult issue in the reformation period (note: I know this isn't a full review of the history, and I am aware of the role of baptist ministry in the US and Africa, but time, time). And that's odd, because baptism is the defining feature of Christians: good Christians take communion; all Christians are baptised.
I think that is changing and the issue is coalescing around what it means to be baptised, and the article made me think about precisely this point, though the views of the individuals in question are absurd. However, their reaction (though they don't realise it) is against the theological position, originally in Paul, of being sealed in Christ, but he is really wrestling with circumcision and the Law here; this isn't the root of baptism - it's John (one of my favourite saints) and his sense of baptism is very different - it's a creed of repentance and of cleansing from sin, and this is clearly absurd to offer to infants. It also leads to a slightly odd position where it is clearly logical to delay baptism until death so that the value of the forgiveness of all sin might be maximised - pace Constantine - a kind of Russian roulette of forgiveness: after all, you wouldn't want to mistime that. BTW, this is easily and obviously argued against. No need for that here.
However, we have another rather important meaning in the gospel account of the baptism of Jesus, where the baptism is clearly a commission and the beginning of the ministry of Christ. I would argue this is where we must root our conception of baptism, of a commission, or as we have it in Acts 2.38, receiving the gift of the Spirit. In some sense those who argue for debaptism are right, they have - in theory - chosen to lay down their divine commission. Of course that's not how we understood and it's very unclear why they care (I've often noticed that about atheists). That's clearly wrong. Baptism isn't like a membership card you hand back. Baptism clearly does fulfill a number of overlapping roles: initiatory, soteriologically (there are massive difficulties in renouncing God's role: once in, never out), and in relation to sin as well as this sense of commission.
But it does strengthen my belief around the unsatisfactory nature of infant baptism and the inability of such a sacrament to be reconciled with either its original conception or its theological significance. Where adulthood starts in this context (and it's not 21) is harder to define and the subject of a long running argument between A and me, but some time to go before we resolve it.
Theologically, baptism (Christening for those who think about this in other language) seems to get a relatively easy rise in sacramental controversy. No disputes its position as second only to the Queen of Sacraments (I'll save my thoughts on whether that's out of two or seven for later), but whereas the Eucharist has been the subject of wranglings about its significance for most of the history of the church, and continues to excite doctrinal controversy, both around traditional areas - I wish I could persuade my church to revert to red wine - but in new directions as well. I find the inculturation debate around the use of bread and wine in particularly African liturgy fascinating.
By contrast, there is a brief flurry of activity over baptism in the early church around validity (hence Nicaea - Constantinople's one baptism), a gradual movement towards infant baptism, which remained rare even in late antiquity, and another flurry about that adult issue in the reformation period (note: I know this isn't a full review of the history, and I am aware of the role of baptist ministry in the US and Africa, but time, time). And that's odd, because baptism is the defining feature of Christians: good Christians take communion; all Christians are baptised.
I think that is changing and the issue is coalescing around what it means to be baptised, and the article made me think about precisely this point, though the views of the individuals in question are absurd. However, their reaction (though they don't realise it) is against the theological position, originally in Paul, of being sealed in Christ, but he is really wrestling with circumcision and the Law here; this isn't the root of baptism - it's John (one of my favourite saints) and his sense of baptism is very different - it's a creed of repentance and of cleansing from sin, and this is clearly absurd to offer to infants. It also leads to a slightly odd position where it is clearly logical to delay baptism until death so that the value of the forgiveness of all sin might be maximised - pace Constantine - a kind of Russian roulette of forgiveness: after all, you wouldn't want to mistime that. BTW, this is easily and obviously argued against. No need for that here.
However, we have another rather important meaning in the gospel account of the baptism of Jesus, where the baptism is clearly a commission and the beginning of the ministry of Christ. I would argue this is where we must root our conception of baptism, of a commission, or as we have it in Acts 2.38, receiving the gift of the Spirit. In some sense those who argue for debaptism are right, they have - in theory - chosen to lay down their divine commission. Of course that's not how we understood and it's very unclear why they care (I've often noticed that about atheists). That's clearly wrong. Baptism isn't like a membership card you hand back. Baptism clearly does fulfill a number of overlapping roles: initiatory, soteriologically (there are massive difficulties in renouncing God's role: once in, never out), and in relation to sin as well as this sense of commission.
But it does strengthen my belief around the unsatisfactory nature of infant baptism and the inability of such a sacrament to be reconciled with either its original conception or its theological significance. Where adulthood starts in this context (and it's not 21) is harder to define and the subject of a long running argument between A and me, but some time to go before we resolve it.
Friday 13 March 2009
The Red Hand
I toyed with calling this No Surrender, but that might have been provocative; not that the Red Hand is immune from criticism, but its origins are older.
I've held back from saying much on Northern Ireland, not least because I'm not entirely temperate when I think about it - I broke lent within seconds of the second murder this week - and in reality I don't actually have much to say: I still can't stand Adams, never have; never will, who has not come out of this well, but I was surprised at McGuinness' use of traitor to describe the murderers.
What is more interesting - to me at least - is how atavistic the whole thing remains for those of us who aren't actually involved. Instinctively, and before reflection, I come out as a massive Tory (etymological note: not in the sense of the Irish, catholic origins of the word), Protestant leaning, Unionist (that's 1800, not 1707). In reality of course, I probably am protestant, just, but episcopal; I'm so disassociated with the Union, that I want to give Yorkshire independence, let alone Ulster. And, while I believe that the IRA are and always have been, in all and any of their incarnations, murderers, rebels and criminals, so are lots of groups, I get much less agitated about them.
I think it's to do with the party: the republicans hate Tories, and instinctively that means we hate them. There aren't actually that many good reasons for them to hate Conservatives (as opposed to the English more generally) on this issue: the partition of Ireland was a Lloyd George policy, Labour sent the army in in 1969, the criminalisation of the IRA prisoners a Labour decision in 1976 (even SF admit that), Tebbit gets some flak, but quite frankly, if any organisation paralysed my wife I would take their province apart and shoot anyone who harboured or supported the men who did it (note: this is not what we did). In reality, we - as a party - have a good record on the peace: Thatcher involved the Republic in 1985, and Major did the hard groundwork on the ceasefire. There are decisions where we look less good, but this is far from a disastrous story - it really means, Tories were in power for a long time.
Our position is more tricky, but then we've never liked rebels or the Irish more generally, and they did let down the loyalists down at the Boyne.
I've held back from saying much on Northern Ireland, not least because I'm not entirely temperate when I think about it - I broke lent within seconds of the second murder this week - and in reality I don't actually have much to say: I still can't stand Adams, never have; never will, who has not come out of this well, but I was surprised at McGuinness' use of traitor to describe the murderers.
What is more interesting - to me at least - is how atavistic the whole thing remains for those of us who aren't actually involved. Instinctively, and before reflection, I come out as a massive Tory (etymological note: not in the sense of the Irish, catholic origins of the word), Protestant leaning, Unionist (that's 1800, not 1707). In reality of course, I probably am protestant, just, but episcopal; I'm so disassociated with the Union, that I want to give Yorkshire independence, let alone Ulster. And, while I believe that the IRA are and always have been, in all and any of their incarnations, murderers, rebels and criminals, so are lots of groups, I get much less agitated about them.
I think it's to do with the party: the republicans hate Tories, and instinctively that means we hate them. There aren't actually that many good reasons for them to hate Conservatives (as opposed to the English more generally) on this issue: the partition of Ireland was a Lloyd George policy, Labour sent the army in in 1969, the criminalisation of the IRA prisoners a Labour decision in 1976 (even SF admit that), Tebbit gets some flak, but quite frankly, if any organisation paralysed my wife I would take their province apart and shoot anyone who harboured or supported the men who did it (note: this is not what we did). In reality, we - as a party - have a good record on the peace: Thatcher involved the Republic in 1985, and Major did the hard groundwork on the ceasefire. There are decisions where we look less good, but this is far from a disastrous story - it really means, Tories were in power for a long time.
Our position is more tricky, but then we've never liked rebels or the Irish more generally, and they did let down the loyalists down at the Boyne.
Sunday 1 March 2009
Bibliography, February 2009
Bought (2)
M. Bannfy, They were found wanting
N. Gordimer, The Conservationist
Read (9)
BOTM: J. Heller, Catch 22
A. Burgess, 99 Novels
F.M. Ford, The Good Soldier
R. Kapuscinski, Shah of Shahs
V.S. Naipaul, India: A wounded civilization
R.K. Narayan, The Man-Eater of Malgudi
A. Powell, The Valley of Bones
A. Powell, The soldier's Art
A. Powell, The military philosophers
In Changing Places David Lodge has his protagonists play a game called humiliation, the object being to own up to a material work of literature that one hasn't read. The most impressive failure wins the game. It's flaw as a game is that the proliferation of literary work and the lack of a recognised canon in modern teaching means that few outside English faculties can play it without it becoming a slightly pointless game of bickering over whose massive omissions are worst - i.e. the value of the works in question. The fact I have never got round to reading King Lear would doubtless go into the mix against A's stubborn insistence that all the characters in War & Peace are called Nikolai Nikolaevitch, when - as this note makes clear - they aren't. The discussion is of course hampered by the fact that, by definition, only one of us will have read the book in question. A tighter defined canon is probably necessary, or making clear that it's really about fame, not quality.
One of my major omissions on that ground was rectified this month by knocking off Catch 22, which while clearly not of the same quality as either of the examples above, is a great and vry influentual book (for example, it comes in number 7 on this list). And it is beloved of the anti-war lot, and students who think its like Kafka, but with more sex in. It's not quite that profound, but it is funny, narratively innovative, explosively written and packs a material, and quite moving, punch. Sometimes I think it errs on the wrong side of farce - which undermine the more serious elements, but this is a minor critique. It is, of course, like many other things, a bit too long and drags a little about two thirds of the way in, before picking for the final sequences.
M. Bannfy, They were found wanting
N. Gordimer, The Conservationist
Read (9)
BOTM: J. Heller, Catch 22
A. Burgess, 99 Novels
F.M. Ford, The Good Soldier
R. Kapuscinski, Shah of Shahs
V.S. Naipaul, India: A wounded civilization
R.K. Narayan, The Man-Eater of Malgudi
A. Powell, The Valley of Bones
A. Powell, The soldier's Art
A. Powell, The military philosophers
In Changing Places David Lodge has his protagonists play a game called humiliation, the object being to own up to a material work of literature that one hasn't read. The most impressive failure wins the game. It's flaw as a game is that the proliferation of literary work and the lack of a recognised canon in modern teaching means that few outside English faculties can play it without it becoming a slightly pointless game of bickering over whose massive omissions are worst - i.e. the value of the works in question. The fact I have never got round to reading King Lear would doubtless go into the mix against A's stubborn insistence that all the characters in War & Peace are called Nikolai Nikolaevitch, when - as this note makes clear - they aren't. The discussion is of course hampered by the fact that, by definition, only one of us will have read the book in question. A tighter defined canon is probably necessary, or making clear that it's really about fame, not quality.
One of my major omissions on that ground was rectified this month by knocking off Catch 22, which while clearly not of the same quality as either of the examples above, is a great and vry influentual book (for example, it comes in number 7 on this list). And it is beloved of the anti-war lot, and students who think its like Kafka, but with more sex in. It's not quite that profound, but it is funny, narratively innovative, explosively written and packs a material, and quite moving, punch. Sometimes I think it errs on the wrong side of farce - which undermine the more serious elements, but this is a minor critique. It is, of course, like many other things, a bit too long and drags a little about two thirds of the way in, before picking for the final sequences.
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