Bread and Circuses

Friday. 6.25 a.m. It's mild and sunny as I write this. I'm going to the Central Milton Keynes Shopping Centre to get my haircut this morning. I booked my appointment online and it's paid for, so I just have to drive in, park and then walk through to the barbers.

Later. 11.40 a.m. I had to take his littleness out before venturing forth to the barbers. Easy enough parking in the usual place. I'm surprised to see that the old food centre, which is where Central Barbers used to be and in the same block which Sainsbury's vacated years ago, is currently being demolished to make way for a new development which is supposed to be a mixture of retail and residential properties. Just a pile of rubble and a bit of a shock to see it in such a state.

I'm also quite shocked by the number of empty units within the shopping centre. It looks as if Paperchase has gone. An empty unit. All shelving has gone. Carol would be upset, as she loved their products and we seemed to spend quite a lot of time- and money- in that store. One of Waterstone's two stores has gone, or so it would seem. As there had been two branches, one in the main shopping centre and the other in Midsummer Place, it's not surprising that one would close down. How many more are likely to close. Although I did go into the new Hamley's toyshop. This must be a new departure for them because they have always had a store in central London, Regent Street I think, which was a favourite place to visit when I was a child and a major focus on any London visit, especially over the Christmas period.

I got to Central Barbers and I had to wait outside until I could go inside the shop. Several other people also waiting. All this to keep to social distancing regulations. 

Came out after my haircut and a lot better as a result. I can't stand not getting my hair cut so the pandemic has been awful in that respect. A good ten years younger-looking I think!

I went into Lakeland's shop near Middleton Hall and bought two sponge baking pans. Heavy gauge as it's better, in the long run, to spend on better quality cookware because you get a far more even bake and they don't warp or rust like the cheap, thin baking ware. These also have loose bases which make removing cakes from the tin easier. Now to stock up on flour, butter, and other ingredients and get baking. Now I have almost all the equipment I need so there's really no excuse.

Saturday 3rd July. 6.50 a.m. Yet another mild and pleasant morning. Football this evening, England v Ukraine or something, but, as you know, I don't follow football, but I suppose it keeps the masses occupied. 

What did someone say, a Roman emperor probably, about 'bread and circuses? Keep the masses occupied and prevent revolution. (It was Juvenal who made that statement.) All that sport at school was just a means to work off excess energy. But at the school I went to in Bedford, Rushmoor, I reckon it was just a way to keep the heating bills down during the winter months. One of the reasons I hated it so much because I used to suffer excessively with cold and standing around (or running around.) didn't exactly help matters,  on a football pitch which was on the top of a hill, now the place where Bedford Modern School is today, in Manton Lane, was no fun when it was blowing a gale, or it was raining or snowing. Getting there was a bit of a hike from the school in Shakespeare Road and then up a sometimes muddy path to the top of the hill. Not my idea of heaven, although it might have been for some people. I think in all honesty it was because I don't like being told what to do, not compliant with the will of some people who should have known better. As I was no good at either football or cricket it was painful and then being the last person to be picked for a team for either game (I wasn't the only one to be left till last, there were several others.) Then they march back to the school and putting up with mud-clogged football boots and probably kit. Yuck! All that mud you had to pick off your boots was not a pleasant task. Memories! Memories! What is it someone said 'the battle of Waterloo was won on the playing fields of Harrow. . .' or Eaton, or some other public school. Rushmoor was certainly not of that calibre, but you get my meaning, or at least I hope you do. I think the purpose of that place was to inculcate its pupils into being the drones who would be the backbone of Empire, working in the administration, pen-pushers, civil servants who would do the bidding of their masters without making any sort of fuss. Without question. Something like in one of my favourite films, by my favourite film directors, Terry Gilliam, 'Brazil', set in a sort of dystopian Britain, where people work in offices, run-down, with poorly functioning machinery. The whole plot revolves around an error that occurs when a man's name is misspelt and he lands up being interrogated by the state police. I won't divulge the ending as you should watch it, even if it's to see the amazing production design and laugh at what is, in effect very much a black comedy.