I love politicians!

Oh dear, you've already categorised me as a weirdo from the title of this post, without delving deeper into my feelings, the meaning of what I'm saying. You may be right, dear reader, on the weirdo point, but please read on - you may even thank me later.

We all depend on politicians in one way or another, as they are the ones who govern the way countries - and, therefore, ordinary peoples' lives - are run. Politicians create laws and the way they are enforced, help create and administer the security we all need, even control our pockets in one way or another; they are important to us whether we like it or not. Democracy depends on politicians to represent 'ordinary' people, the same ones who vote them in and out of office according to whatever they feel is apt, correct at the time. And what a job of it we 'ordinaries' are making!

Politicians are great for many reasons, some - but not many - of which occasionally are even related to the job they are being employed to do. To me they are a constant source of inspiration, admittedly in a strange kind of way, of amusement and even hearty laughter. What would my life be without them?

In recent months my best source of inspiration has been the President of the USA, Donald Trump, known in the past as the Donald. From amazing and amusing childish tantrums to the constant stream of petty, often meaningless, lies he gives countless opponents, but also comedians galore, plenty of material to keep anyone - me included - amused for months and months. The fact that he is 'the most powerful man in the world' or 'the leader of the free world' may make this slightly (!!!) disquieting in that this is a comedy turn with potentially desperately serious, even fatal, consequences is a source of concern but...

When The Donald runs out of steam we have other delightful political figures to pick up the slack, with the front-runner being President Bolsonaro of Brazil, a man so outrageously unreal that he is prepared to let the Amazon forest burn down to nothing rather than accept help from France (nor anybody else for that matter); this because he feels slighted by something said by President Macron of said country. Are we serious here? This is delightful playground behaviour - oooh, you called me a name so I'm not playing with you - which is precisely what we should not expect from a serious politician outside high school.

Of course I cannot stay serious when the incomparable President Erdogan of Turkey engages with other countries, in turn threatening or offending the very neighbours and potential allies he should be making friends with and depending on, spouting rhetoric from the bygone days including the choice 'the Aegean islands were ours sometime in the past, rightfully they should be ours again' (I perhaps paraphrase slightly), conveniently forgetting that the first Turks did not arrive from the steppes of Asia until the tail end of the 1st millennium. and Ottoman Turks not until nearly 300 years later... How far back do you want to discuss ownership, Mr. President?

You couldn't make them up, these people, the Trumps, the Berlusconis and the Salvinis, the Farages and Johnsons. They are unwittingly funny because they are 'funny peculiar' in a way few satirists could have imagined, they make me smile and, sometimes, laugh out loud, how could I not love them?

But it is a love-hate relationship - I loathe what these people are doing to our world!

Paleo - Piraeus' perfect little wine bar

You're wandering around the port of Piraeus of an evening, more than likely confused after returning to the big city (cities???) after a wonderful time on a gorgeous Greek island. All around you loads of indifferent little coffee bar places vie for your business, knowing they need not impress you as they will probably never have to see you again. Off in a huff, you take a wrong turn up a dark cobbled side street full of closed or defunct commercial concerns when you see a light further up; you wander towards it and, as it's hot weather, you realise there are tables with people eating and drinking.

For anyone who has ever wandered the streets of the port of Piraeus this is an unlikely sight in an unlikely location - a bit like an oasis. Yet as you come nearer you realise this is no backstreet taverna, frying the dickens out of everything it can lay its hands on and serving jug wine in squat little glasses, but a serious establishment that respects wine. A wooden sign above the door says Paleo, and if you are a wine lover you have stumbled upon a little bit of paradise.

Yannis Kaymenakis opened this place in the middle of the financial meltdown that has been tormenting Greece for the best part of the last ten years after a distinguished career first as a sommelier, then as a partner in a wine-themed restaurant near the old all-marble Olympic stadium. He is passionate and knowledgable about wine, but not stupidly elitist, clever-clever or precious. Indeed his wine list cleverly blends the well-known with little discoveries you would struggle to find elsewhere, all at fair prices and served with proper all around glasses - yes, a bugbear of mine! Here you can enjoy a decent mouthful of, say, French stuff at a price that other wine bars would put on a relatively ordinary Nemea specimen. And the man himself is there all the time to advise and guide all visitors, expert and ignorant alike, with patience and humility, making this little place a big success despite the crisis.

We had two bottles of wine between four of us - I know, I know, I had to be good and, don't worry, I'm not losing my touch - the first being a thumping rose from Tavel in the south of France (Rhone valley), 2018 Chateau d' Aqueria, full of big cherry and ripe watermelon flavour and alcohol, a lively, enjoyable mouthful and not just for the summer. Then we had, at Yanni's recommendation and continuing the Rhone theme, a Crozes-Hermitage 2017 from Alain Graillot, which was dark and almost black in colour, with a rich spicy red fruit nose and a similar, juicy palate, ripe with lots of background soft tannins - drinking well now but with lots of time ahead. Both wines were well chosen, unusual for Greece (the Crozes less so, of course) and clearly show the thoughtfulness that has gone into compiling this list.



I do not know why I had not beaten a path to Paleo's door before, other than it isn't near my sister's apartment where I stay and I am impecunious, but this is me making excuses. It's a delightful place where you can drink good wine properly served at prices that won't break the bank, and the food is decent too, if simple, to accompany the wine rather than dominate. Even the homemade bread - a rarity in Greek eateries - is excellent!

This is a destination place worth seeking out, not just good for the lost and wandering of Piraeus. I shall be saving my pennies to go back again, and soon. Of course, dear reader, you can invite me and I can advise you on the riches contained in the wine list, singing for my supper. You will enjoy it, as my non (well, hardly any) wine-drinkimg friend did last night. He was already talking about going back as we were driving away, and he's about as impecunious as I am!

A pleasant drinky!

Oh dear, what a lucky little person I am, despite all my well-publicised (by me at least...!) problems. Last night a good friend invited me to his home for a bite to eat - something simple - and a catch-up, as we hadn't seen each other for a while. He is a friend going back many, many years to schooldays but, almost equally importantly for a wine person like me, he has a decent cellar! In years gone by I originally advised on wine purchases and how to go about finding good stuff at decent prices, so I knew that the food would be simple but the wine a bit special.

I wasn't wrong, of course, as he suggested a bottle of champagne - one of my favourite drinks in the universe - that he still has a few bottles of, a Dom Perignon 1996. There had been a bit of bad luck with bottles of the same recently, so he wanted to make sure that some were still good and I was handy! What luck! Champagne, like any wine is a living thing and, especially with a twenty three year old wine, there is a risk that at least some of the bottles could have suffered, but ours had not; it was, in fact, a beneficiary of all the good that comes from ageing wine without any of the bad.

Our wine was simply stunning, delicately golden green in colour with good, quite vigorous for its age, mousse and fine bubbles, toasty and biscuity, subtle yet tasty, classy and long. I have never been in awe of Dom Perignon and am appalled at what people with more money than sense do with it in nightclubs the world over, but at its best it is a seriously fine wine to reliably savour. This is not the first fine bottle I have enjoyed - the rose is particularly good - but this one was just spot on in its classy subtlety and complexity, hallmark of good champagne. Chapeau!

Good champagne is not rocket science; rather, it involves nature being somewhat helpful, then unrelenting human attention to detail in the vineyard, the grape selection, the winery, the handling, the cellar. Champagne is a complicated baby and expensive to produce, but at its best it's worth loving to bits - this was one such occasion.

Dear reader, if only you had friends like mine... But then you probably wouldn't bother with reading my nonsense.

Death in Motorsport

This weekend another driver died taking part in motorsport, a talented young who could have become a big star in the future, a winner at the highest level. It is, of course, a human tragedy but, in motorsport it is something that can happen at any race, at any level of the sport and on any given day. It is upsetting, yes, but everyone involved knows that the risk is always there.

Nearly forty years ago I was a young driver fighting for success as you, my loyal reader, well knows from never missing a post, and death was part of my life. This was in an era where motorsport deaths were far from unusual and we felt the shadow of risk every week - this is, in many ways thankfully, no longer the case. Racing cars and circuits are much safer these days, sometimes even at the cost of reducing the excitement for spectators but this is largely an acceptable cost; life is precious, after all, and should not be thrown away stupidly.

Motor Racing is dangerous, REALLY DANGEROUS, has always been so, and it is possible to lose one's life quite easily; even a trivial little incident like banging wheels can have serious results. On Easter Monday 1980 I had a 'silly little' accident at Thruxton in an FF1600 race while running just outside the top 10, losing control in a fast corner round the back and spinning off harmlessly into the greenery, as I thought. Alas I hit the marshalls' post going backwards at over 100mph, was unconscious for over 10 minutes and, were I driving a less robust car than the PRS I may well have died on the spot. As it was I survived with aches and pains, and was back in a racing car within two weeks.

I know people unconnected to motorsport cannot understand this, how in the face of death or serious injury drivers come out week after week to race, to attempt to win, to achieve our dreams, whatever they may be. It's not about money, as in most racing categories outside the very top drivers are unpaid and even often have to cover their own expenses. It's more often than not an intangible, different from person to person, that pushes us; of course, we all also love motorsport, competition, the excitement.

Is death a price worth paying? I know without a shadow of a doubt that in my day, sadly now part of the distant past, it absolutely was. Despite all the hand-wringing and wailing we hear now, the 'it shouldn't be allowed to happen' voices,  the tears shed when it does happen death is still part of what makes motorsport what it is. Remove it and all motorsport becomes is an amusement park game, sterile and graceless.

No driver wants to die, but most of us accept it as a possibility, as part of pursuing something we love above all else. The old photographs of my racing days that accompany this post are, of course, out of date and I'm still around, if unfulfilled - see my post of  earlier in the year - when many friends and others are not. Shedding a tear for the young ones killed in the last few days, I salute them and live on with, like them, acceptance and no fear.

Are we witnessing the Age of Unreason?

The President of the USA comes up with the idea that his country wants to purchase Greenland from Denmark out of the blue. Instead of pursuing this target discreetly through diplomatic channels he ensures that his intention is plastered all over the media, as is the subsequent rejection - as was well within their rights - by the Danish government, who called the proposal 'absurd'. Said President, with lots of egg on his face, proceeds to cancel a presidential trip to Denmark in retaliation, calling the Danish Prime Minister's reaction to his 'proposal' nasty - really?

Britain chooses to pursue a strategy labelled Brexit, its departure from the European Union (EU - formerly EEC), amid all sorts of claims ranging from the valid to the ridiculous; this decision is based on a referendum where 52% voted to leave and 48% to stay on a pretty average turnout of 72.2%. After nearly 3 years the UK government apparently failed to negotiate an agreement acceptable to both the EU and the UK and, despite his spectacularly mediocre and unsatisfactory performance as Foreign Secretary has chosen the opportunist supreme Boris Johnson as the Prime Minister needed at a time of national crisis -  really?

Italy has chosen people to govern it that feel it is preferable to watch human beings drown than to offer them life, maybe even hope, even if they come from a different place or have different skin colour/hue. Many other politicians from countries that were previously happy to conquer, plunder, colonise or otherwise abuse others when they could get away with it find the presence of strange refugees fleeing horrific living conditions unacceptable, viewing them as an inconvenience for system and the incumbent citizens - really?

That any government in the 21st century, let alone one based on immigration and freedom, would consider it appropriate to separate very young children from their parents as a punishment for seeking a better life, granted perhaps but not always  illegally, and then seek to justify this as a humane approach instead of holding its head in shame - really?

That anyone, anywhere in the world and of whatever nationality, religion, creed or colour, whether elected, appointed or otherwise of some public stature, would watch a concert by a pop star like Jennifer Lopez (or virtually anybody else for that matter) and then dare declare themselves offended, traumatised or whatever by her appearance and performance when all they had to do was close their eyes, change channels or press the off button - really?

I am truly horrified that these people holding these beliefs exist in today's world. It seems that we have either not learned the lessons of the past or are studiously trying to ignore them. We are facing massive challenges and, instead of rising to them, we are behaving like ignorant, spoiled children, seemingly led by The Donald, surely ironically now called 'Leader of the Free World'.

If only Robin Williams and Christopher Hitchens were still alive to discuss our age with the intelligence and wild humour that it deserves, at least amusing us in our time of despair.

Perspective

Facts, alternative facts, statistics and what have you all vie for our attention daily, be it on the television, newspapers, the internet or right in front of our eyes. We try and make sense of all of this, more often than not believing anything that seems sensible to us and instantly transforming it into established truth, forgetting that we arrive there through perspective - what seems true and correct to me does not necessarily click with you, or the next person.

Many things in life are almost entirely a matter of perspective, including interpretation of historical fact, current events or the future. Our background, personal experiences and beliefs shape our understanding of life, of everything we see, read, hear about and, therefore, our interpretation of everything. This is not a black and white process by any means, even for events unfolding right in front of our eyes, as plenty of research has shown - no, you cannot trust in any absolute way even what you think you see with your own eyes! Interpretation is constantly at work, all the time, and that is always affected by perspective.

History is constantly reinterpreted using a different perspective, usually to suit a purpose and press a claim, however unrealistic or ridiculous. Take the wonderfully absurd claim by much-admired President Erdogan of Turkey concerning the Aegean islands (slightly paraphrasing): "They belonged to us before, so they don't belong to Greece, they should be ours by right." This sounds eminently sensible until you consider that the perspective changes completely if you shift to another point in time, when the Ottoman Turks were still in the depths of the steppes of Asia, yet to embellish world history with their influence and significance - to whom did modern day Turkey belong then and what claims should they have today? And then how far back in time are we willing to go and whose claim can we unearth?

The equally highly revered President Trump of the USA, in the past known as The Donald, has another method to affect your perspective - he interprets events for you, imposing his own preferred version of things on anyone who is willing to accept it. Throughout the centuries dishpots (thank you, P.G. Wodehouse!) have always used this technique, and The Donald is an aspiring despot if ever there was one; it is up to the American people whether his aspirations remain as such or become reality, a thought that fills me with terror sometimes.

Very little in life, indeed in our world, is clear-cut, hardly anything is black-and-white, almost nothing has but one interpretation. My perspective is not de facto your perspective and your truth is not necessarily my truth, as The Donald demonstrates on an almost daily basis, which should not cause a crisis of faith but rather a reaffirmation not to take anything at face value just because it's convenient. And that is much easier said than done.

Summer in the City

For the first time in several years I am stuck in Athens in August and, do you know, it's pretty good if rather warm. The place is nearly deserted, the atmosphere clean and the roads very quiet indeed. That's the good news, but there's a negative aspect - most restaurants/bars etc. are closed for a week or two, as their staff take advantage of their customers being away to get some rest.

I like Athens in August; in fact I could almost say I love it. If it was like this all year round it would be a very relaxed place to live in, with a superb quality of life - but it is an illusion, of course. A large city could not function at this, delightful though it is, snail's pace; it would quickly grind to a halt. Illusions, however, are sometimes what makes life bearable in the large, harsh urban environments of today's world and I am delighted to inhabit them whenever they appear.

No, dear reader, before you get carried away with your assumptions, I am not a fantasist who loves living in a make-believe world. On the contrary, I am a stern realist living very much in today's world, just enjoying the odd break, the illusion, the little dream interlude. This illusory mixture of the present with the past and the future, a little temporary world to enjoy today and for the next few days, will soon be gone but is no less lovely for this.

Any visitor to Greece can tell you that August can be a very hot month indeed. Athens, with its urban sprawl, cement and tarmac environment can sometimes feel very inhospitable, but not this year - or is it just my present state of mind? Whatever the cause I'm grateful for it, for giving me some peace and quiet, for allowing me to relax in this otherwise noisy, nosy place.

Yes, I do wish more places were open, that I could afford more of them, that it was like this for more of the time - it isn't, though! I'm determined to enjoy what remains of my illusion, allow the summer heat to slow me down and do not very much, though an evening out with friends tonight - a little taverna, perhaps? - may not be out of the question.

Pour me some wine, please, and let me enjoy myself as summer illusions will soon disappear, chased away by the autumn chill.