Brown Windsor

For reasons that involve the mellifluously-fluting Lucinda Lambton and a rather special doll’s-house, the Lady in Malcolm’s life and the Pert Young Piece were in Windsor yesterday afternoon.

Malcolm arranged to meet them after their tryst with Perry Worsthorne’s missus. That gave him the opportunity of exploring the public transport system a bit further: the senior travel pass (one of the many benefits Gordon Brown finagled for ordinary Brits) should mean the journey could be done for free.

There are numerous ways of travelling from Malcolm’s perch in Norf Lunnun to Windsor. On this occasion Malcolm got it seriously wrong.

Out of Redfellow Hovel soon after 3 p.m. It was a 43 bus to Holloway Road, catch the Piccadilly Line. Then a long trundle through the western suburbs to Heathrow.

Gripe the first

Heathrow was, is and (unless a miracle ensues) always will be a aeronautical slum. There are several ways of getting to and from:

• One can be scalped by the cab drivers (who have a hell of a time anyhow, so not all the blame is theirs).
• Just below that 24-carat extravagance comes the Heathrow Express, allegedly mile-for-mile the most exorbitantly-overcharged rail journey in the world, as well as having the most complex fares structure.
• Just below that again is the stopping train out of Paddington: it does exactly the same trip as the Heathrow Express at half the price, and takes all of ten minutes or so longer.

The problem with both those latter options is Paddington, which (Marylebone apart) is the terminus least accessible from central London. That, we are assured, may improve with the Crossrail project; but not until the back-end of this decade.

• Beyond that it’s the ‘Dilly line, where we are truly at one with our neighbour: at rush-hours sardines have more personal space. The near forty-year-old rolling stock was due for replacement in a couple of years’ time, but became embroiled in the collapse of Tube Lines, and so one of the first of the Tory-led coalition cuts.

To add to the Heathrow mess, there is the continuing confusion of terminals, particularly when airlines with a smaller presence seem perversely to switch from one to another.

Terminal Five

After teething troubles, very well-publicized, the monster seems to have settled into a good operating condition. Passengers seem almost happy.

It certainly is an impressive structure. The medievals built cathedrals: we build airport terminals. We’re almost getting good at doing so. Those medieval cathedrals coped with a few thousand annual “foot-falls”. Terminal Five is prepared to deal with 35 million.

The last stage of Malcolm’s odyssey was from the Cave of the Winds (see below) on the other 77 bus (there’s the better-known 77 from Tooting to Waterloo).

Gripe the second

Terminal Five’s bus terminal is ground level and out the back (vaguely in the direction of the Sofitel hotel). Perhaps the original intention was to have a drive-through for jumbo jets. It is a vast, open tunnel of a soul-less place. Particularly so when, as Malcolm, you just missed the previous bus and it’s a half-hour wait, with a chilling draught through the tunnel.

Not in Kansas any more …

Suddenly the buses are Slough (actually First Group) blue.

A bus is a bus is a bus. This one’s route takes the sightseeing Malcolm through the delights of twilit Slough:

Come, friendly bombs and fall on Slough
To get it ready for the plough
The cabbages are coming now
The earth exhales.

Those cabbages are likely to be found in the ginormous Sainsbury’s supermarket passed along the route. Immediately followed by as sprawling a Tesco’s. Concrete and glass find a spiritual home here. Beautiful it is not.

Once out and under the M4 the 77 speeds up, and fairly shifts through the old watermeadows around Eton. Then it’s across the bifurcated Thames to the Maidenhead Road roundabout, past the “artisan’s cottages” of Arthur Street, and, with a bit of juggling, into the bus stop at the marvellously-named Peascod Street (“It used to be all fields round here, you know!”).

Something like three-and-a-half hours, end to end, time passed courtesy of an Irish Times (read thoroughly, an excellent edition) then 100+ pages in the chilling company of Harry Hole. The reading was the only consolation of an afternoon thoroughly wasted.

The Carpenters Arms

Things were about to improve considerably: Malcolm was pledged to meet aforesaifd Lady in his Life and the Pert Young Piece in the Carpenters Arms in Market Street (and that’s as close to the main gate of the Castle as any good republican would wish to be).

Better believe it: there are pubs in Windsor which are not dedicated to fleecing every passing day-tripper; and are worth the visit. They just need hunting out. Pride of place in this select list has to be the Carpenters. It cannot be just a quiet(ish) evening in February that gave the instant impression of a well-run and well-patronised place. It’s a Nicholson’s house, which should convey an atmosphere of well-bred, late-Victorian solidity, moving adequately but not precipitately with the times. Nicholson’s probably buy their (old-style) Brasso by the tanker-load.

Malcolm was late in arriving: fortunately the females were later still. On the pumps five ales. Apart from the reliable stand-bys (London Pride and Doom Bar) there were three exotics (as right).

As a general rule Malcolm is none too keen on frolicksome beers, be they Belgians dunking cherries and strawberries or attempts at imitating foreign stuff. That quickly eliminated the Ginger Beer and the Vicious IPA: had he been in any doubt, two guys at the bar anxiously dissuaded him from either (they had obviously been that way before). One of them was on Pride: fair enough. The other wasn’t.

Malcolm was hesitating between the Fuller’s and the Sharp’s: London Pride or Doom Bar? It was the dark, beyond-brown-to-black contents of the second guy’s pint glass that made Malcolm look closer at that third exotic: Thornbridge Wild Holly.

Thornbridge is a craft brewery, based in Bakewell, Derbyshire, with a growing reputation. There’s been a small surge of these heavy winter ales in the last year or two. Once upon a time “winter warmers” were universal, and by late February are on their last knockings. Most are worth a second go. Malcolm gave Wild Holly a first go; and happily came back for more.

When the women arrived (Doom Bar for the Pert Young Piece, a well-raised child, and a decent Chilean red for the Lady), it was rib-eye steaks all round; and damn the consequences.

By general consent, the Carpenters Arms ticked all the boxes. Very highly recommended.

Home, James, …

… and don’t spare the horses.

The return journey, in less than half the time of the outward one, was Windsor and Eton Riverside to Waterloo, by South West Trains, then Northern Line.

Malcolm may be long-suffering; but he is no masochist.

Londonderry Air

It began with a quick check of the news:

The City of Derry Airport is being shut by the flight regulator until further notice because of safety concerns.

The Civil Aviation Authority decided to provisionally suspend its licence following an inspection this week.

Problems found include lack of an effective bird control plan, unsuitable temporary repairs to the area where planes park and poor runway drainage.

So Malcolm considered Eglinton, which has suffered the political equivalent of the Drigg/ Windscale/ Calder Hall/ Sellafield syndrome: successive name-changes for ulterior motives.

Strategy Foyled

Eglinton was one of three airfields (Eglinton, Ballykelly and Maydown) built during the early part of WW2, when this area was on the front line:

On two occasions in it’s [sic] history the city of Londonderry has played a pivotal part in the history of Europe. The first was the ‘great siege’ of 1689 when, over 105 days, the constitutional future of the British Isles and of Europe was decided in and around the city. The second occasion was even more important. In June 1940 the city became a naval base and was destined to become the Allies’ most important escort base in the Battle of the Atlantic. Not only did Europe’s future depend on this base but so also did the political shape of the post-war world.

Had the Allies lost the Battle of the Atlantic, the Nazi domination of Europe could not have been broken and Hitler’s dictatorship would have continued. Winning the Battle of the Atlantic allowed the western Allies to invade Europe and led to the final defeat of Nazism. The naval base at Derry – shared by the Royal Navy, the Royal Canadian Navy and the United States Navy – was vital to the protection of convoys in the Atlantic and, at one time, 140 Allied escort ships were based on the Foyle.

The Foyle was the advance base of Western Approaches command, and so ‘Derry (stuffed with service personnel) was a prime target. Much of the blame for the neglect of air defence (one of many derelictions) in the Province should rest on the Unionist government in Stormont, and in particular the moribund Craig and the incompetent Andrews:

Due in large part to earlier ministerial neglect and prevarication, local defences were hopelessly inadequate, and the public were physically and psychologically unprepared for the blitz. In September 1940, both Belfast and Londonderry had been provided with a light balloon barrage, which was marginally reinforced six months later. By the spring of 1941, the strength of the anti-aircraft barrage in Northern Ireland had risen to 24 heavy guns and 14 light guns. Twenty-two of these were located in Belfast (6 light and 16 heavy). Four were sited at Londonderry; more were to be transferred from Cardiff, but the Luftwaffe arrived before the guns did.

The Churchill Government in Westminster were not so lax. Since only Operation Barbarossa forestalled an inevitable Blitz of ‘Derry, by 1942, there was an over-provision of airfields.

A regional airport

Londonderry County Borough acquired the site in 1978, though for the next twenty years only Loganair operated there. European Regional Development money upgraded the facilities in the early ’90s. The newly politically-correct “City of Derry Airport” opened in 1994, but it took until 1999 for Falcon Holidays to begin charter flights and Ryanair to begin a scheduled service. This was not entirely neglect: climate and location suggest that, for all-year operations, aircraft need to have a certain size about them.

Griping

By objective standards, the airport has been something of a success: it is well on the way to half a million passengers a year. This is Northern Ireland, so there has to be controversy. A quick flick to Slugger O’Toole tells us that “Truck loads of money have been thrown at this airport”; and refers to “the squillions squandered”.

Now compare that with the reality:

[1]

“The European Commission has authorised, under EC state aid guidelines, a plan to fund a number of essential infrastructure improvements at the City of Derry Airport. The plan involves joint financing of the infrastructure by the UK and Irish governments together with Derry City Council, the airport’s owner.

“The proposed financing was considered compatible with the European common market as it satisfies the criteria laid down in state aid guidelines; it constitutes essential infrastructure designed to achieve a clearly defined objective of general interest without leading to undue distortion of the market.

“The measure in question concerns the intention of the United Kingdom and Irish governments to provide over £10.4 million (EUR 15.2 million) of financial assistance to Derry City Council to meet 75% of the cost of two capital development projects at the airport. Each government will pay 37.5%, approximately £5.2 million (EUR 7.6 million) of the expenditure, while Derry City Council will contribute the remaining 25%, approximately £3.48 million (EUR 5 million).”

[2]

Mr. Dermot Ahern, T.D., Minister for Foreign Affairs, said: “City of Derry Airport serves the entire North West region. Recognising its strategic importance, the Government has decided to increase its funding to allow the completion of development works at the Airport.”

“The Government will contribute a total of €10.87 million to works at the Airport. The Government’s contribution is matched by the British Government under the co-funding arrangements agreed by the two Governments in March 2005.”

The airport’s critics (and they are many) have a couple of common characteristics: they tend to be from the east of the Province (and the mental distance from Belfast to ‘Derry can be immense) and they tend to have the usual “Stroke City” sectarian objections. Four main issues seem to arise, and are often confused:

[1] The financing of desirable and necessary upgrades to the airport (a process which, in fact, is open and transparent, necessarily so because of the tripartite involvement of two Governments and the EC).

[2] The smaller (and, sadly, less open and transparent) issue of the subsidy to Ryanair:

The agreement struck in 1999 guaranteed Ryanair £250,000 (€380,000) a year from a consortium of four state-funded authorities on both sides of the Irish border to promote its Derry to London route. A range of other taxpayer-subsidised benefits included free landing, navigation, air control, security, baggage and passenger charges, were also given.

[3] The deficit on operating the airport:

Its operating costs are around £3.5m a year, but revenue is about £2m. The losses are met by the council.

To put this into proportion, it need to be compared with:

• the Derry city budget as a whole (a bit less than £31M);

and expenditure on other local transport, for example

• the announcement from Conor Murphy of £12M extra for roads in Derry City this year.

[4] On the lunatic fringe, the SEA [i.e. Eamonn McCann’s eccentric local Trottery] protesting the Donnybrewer Road houses, and attempting to elevate it into an extension of the Land War.

A soft landing

The CAA’s inspection (and closure order) seem to be confined to three points:

concerns about the drainage of the runway, the facility for parking planes and its bird control plan.

None of these seems insuperable (and it seems that the CAA took over a week between its inspection and issuing the order, which hardly implies urgency). Drainage can hardly be a recent problem, for it was recognised in the 1911 Encyclopedia Britannica:

The excessive rainfall and the cold and uncertain climate are unfavourable for agriculture.

The aircraft parking seems to amount to dissatisfaction with recent temporary repairs to the hard standings, and “bird control” invites Malcolm to invoke the Duke of Wellington:

“Try sparrow-hawks, Ma’am.”