Posts from — March 2005

OK, so who watched the first episode of the new Dr Who on Saturday? I taped it and watched it last night when we’d got back from Northampton.

I think it’s excellent. Christopher Eccleston is definitely the Doctor - in a new key, I’ll grant you, but definitely the Doctor. I’m glad to see that Billie Piper has a more feisty part to play as Rose Tyler than some of the Doctor’s previous companions.

I love the new interior of the TARDIS and I like the self-referential and ironic humour - I don’t think you could do it in any other way now.

I was afraid that Dr Who would be ruined, but I think the BBC’s done OK.

Had a great day with Alex, Charlie, Ethan & Emily in Northampton yesterday (Sunday 27 March). The weather was very disappointing for the Easter weekend - cold and overcast all day - but after lunch at Sixfields Pizza Hut, we went to Abington Park so that the kids could ride their bikes, feed the ducks and go on the climbing frames and swings.

Poor little Emily got really cold while we were doing the swings etc and began to shiver, but Ethan was having a great time of it.

Picked up Tom as we left and brought him back to London to stay while he does his course on ProTools. Vicky is not staying with us this time.

I have never been to a Zoroastrian festival before, but on Saturday evening (26 March) Erica and I drove out to the new Zoroastrian Centre at Rayners Lane to take part in the celebration of the Birthday of the Prophet Zoroaster.

The Centre is a beautifully refurbished Art Deco cinema, very close to Rayners Land Underground station. The outside is still under wraps, but the refurbishment and reconstruction work inside is almost complete. And what a wonderful job they’ve done. The Iranian architect (himself a Zoroastrian) has specified the very highest quality materials and has created a wonderful space for the community to gather, to pray and to observe its festivals and rituals.

A level floor has been created in what were the stalls, the stage has been slightly extended, the art deco ceiling has been preserved and painted, new lighting has been installed. The old projection booth has been transformed into a prayer hall, where the sacred fire is kept alight during prayer times and festivals. (It’s not a consecrated temple, so the fire is not kept alight perpetually.) The fire, tended by a priest dressed in white and wearing a mask over his nose and mouth, burns in a vast metal urn within an enclosure (which has its own chimney and extractor fan. The fire represents sacred purity and the enclosure is the purest part of the building. Only priests can enter the enclosure - and only Zoroastrians can be in the prayer hall during their prayer times.

Because English Heritage has listed the interior as well as the exterior of the building, the Zoroastrian community was forced to install cinema seats in the balcony, even though the building is never going to be used as a cinema again. They had hoped to divide the balcony (which seats around 300) into smaller meeting rooms that they could let out to help defray their costs. But, no, the mandarins of English Heritage have made this absurd decision and the Zoroastrian community has to pay the cost.

Erica and I joined in the celebration at the invitation of our good friend Dorab Mistry, the President of the Zoroastrian Trust Funds of Europe. Another good friend, Dr Natubhai Shah from the Jain community, together with his wife, were also there.

We arrived to find a friendly and relaxed hubbub going on. Festival prayers had just finished and some 200 of the community were sitting around tables chatting. Children and youth were rushing around. Everyone we met welcomed us most warmly. At no point were we made to feel like intruders our outsiders and no one tried to press any ‘message’ on us. To me it seemed like an object lesson for faith (and other) communities on how to make our guests feel like they’re part of the gathering.

Dorab invited Dr Shah and myself to say a few words from the stage - although he had great difficulty in persuading the community to quiet down and listen. Everyone was having such fun talking to each other, they were not desperate to listen to speeches. Natubhai and I both kept our speeches very short. I spoke about the importance of interfaith work and about the Faith Based Regeneration Network; I closed with a quote from the Writings of Baha’u'llah about humanity’s being the leaves of one tree and commanding us to consort with each other in a spirit of friendliness and fellowship.

The food was wonderful. The Zoroastrian community had taken great care to provide Dr & Mrs Shah with Jain food, prepared by a Jain cook - another example of their tremendous thoughtfulness and loving kindness. We had the opportunity to sample some of this food as well as the Zoroastrian food prepared for the auspicious day that is the Birthday of Zoroaster.

I made my first visit to the Apple Store on Regent Street yesterday. Erica and I had decided that we would get out of 27RG and do something other than work - given half a chance both of us would have been at our computers working just like any other day. So, it seemed a good opportunity to take my Airport Express (which has failed) to the Genius Bar at the Apple Store to see if it could be fixed.

First thing is to check if the store is open today. So, online and check. Yes, it’s open, but apparently no slots at the Genius Bar. I wait until 10.00am (the store’s opening time) and then try again. I write my spiel about the Airport Express and send it off. I find I’ve been booked for a slot at 2.15pm - and I’ve made my booking as soon as I can after the store opens. Actually, I could have had a 10.05 slot, but it was already 10 and it would have taken me 20 minutes to get to the Store from Rutland Gate. It’s a bit of a bugger, this. Erica and I had thought to go and have lunch in Greenwich, having been to the Apple Store first. But never mind…

Erica and I take the Piccadilly Line to Piccadilly Circus and walk north along Regent Street. We stop and have a pizza on the way and then get to the store about 1.20pm. Walk in - what an amazing store! It’s completely open plan, spacious, and packed with people playing with Macs, trying out iPods, picking up bits of gear and software. And there are free iLife demonstrations going on in the theatre area. It is one extraordinary marketing achievement by Apple. Very stylish, but we decide we can’t spend the best part of an hour in there waiting for my slot at the Genius Bar - which has plenty of business.

We turn left out of the store and get to Oxford Circus. Oxford Circus and Oxford Street are just heaving. It may be Good Friday, but you can see what our real religion is now. I know it’s a commonplace to say this, but the shrines of the 21st century religion of Shop-Ping are doing great business. The devotees are making sacrifice of their hard earned cash and gaining merit (otherwise known as getting points on your store card) while carrying off objects of veneration - clothes from Laura Ashley or Dickins & Jones or Liberty, jewellery, shoes from Barkers…

And there’s time for a quick glimpse of an area that was sacred to us baby boomers in the 1960s, Carnaby Street.

As we reach Oxford Circus, we can see that there’s a parade or march or something waiting at the traffic lights. As the lights change, the march, lead by a police van, comes turns into Regent Street. It turns out to be a double line of Hare Krishna devotees dancing and chanting as they hold up the traffic in this very busy area.

The devotees in their saffron robes at the front are dancing and chanting enthusiastically, but the further back in the line people are, the less enthusiastic and, to be frank, the more embarrassed they look. Not all are wearing saffron-coloured robes; there’s even one or two in jeans. And right at the back, there’s a four-wheeled cart, pulled by two men, carrying a large papier mache bird (or something of the kind). The bird is under a shelter with four columns and one of those Indian-style domes made out of a shiny fabric. The strangest thing about this is that there’s a many in a beany hat sitting behind the bird’s tale and he’s pulling on cords to make the bird’s wings flap.

It was a small parade and when it was gone, I could hear some Christian preacher shouting the odds on salvation through a megaphone somewhere around Oxford Circus.

So there you have it. Ours certainly is a multi-faith society: Shop-Ping, Hare Krishna, evangelical Christianity all within a small area at the same time - and all observed by two Baha’is. And of the four, Shop-Ping takes the prize for having by far the greatest number of devotees.

But wait, now that I come to think about it, a Salvation Army band marched south along Regent Street while I was back in the Apple Store at about 2.00pm.

Back in the Apple Store, I eventually get my turn at the Genius Bar. It seems that my Airport Express is shot. How long have I had it? More than a year, I think. The genius who’s dealing with me taps the object’s serial number into her PowerBook and tells me that I bought it in July. So, hooray, hooray, I can have a replacement under warranty. But there aren’t any in stock, so I have to wait while she fill out some humungously long online form which will allow her to order one in for me. She must have taken 10 or 15 minutes to fill out the form, while I sat on the stool of repentance at the Genius Bar.

And then Erica and I are free to go and do something more Bank Holiday-ish. Central Line to Bank and then Docklands Light Railway to Cutty Sark. Greenwich is heaving. We find our way into the covered market and it’s a treasure trove of delights. Erica manages to buy a small leather handbag of the kind she’s been looking for for ages - and it’s only six quid. It’s exactly right for occasions when she doesn’t want to take her large bag, the one that holds her life in its many pockets.

I buy a leather case for my business cards. Three quid and I’ve been looking for something of the kind for months.

A cup of tea and a piece of carrot cake and then we do a quick tour round the stalls. There seem to be quite a lot of stalls selling Thai handicrafts and there are the usual stalls of jewellery, candles, prints, photographs, leather goods, and general junk. The place is crowded, but the crowd is in a genial good humour.

We each have a glass (plastic, actually , but who’s counting?) of apple juice and ginger at a stall that turns fruit and ginger into juice before your very eyes. The stall borders on a narrow alleyway with shops. As we wait for our juice - the kind of thing, Erica tells me, Tom and Vicky serve for breakfast - there’s a commotion in the alleyway. A gang of young men in their 20s, shouting and chanting, come through. The guy out front is shushing people, but behind him his chums are clearly in a kind of alcoholic good humour. One of them, seeing the fruit juice stall, raises his hands above his head, claps his hands several times and chants ‘Orange juice’ - it’s a football crowd kind of chant: ‘orange joo–ooce’ on a falling cadence. The noisy young men stop at the pub at the corner of the covered market. Clearly they don’t want to run out of the fuel for their aggressive bonhomie.

You have to wonder, what do they think they’re doing? Clearly it means something to them within their group; it’s something to do with group solidarity; it must have something to do with the kind of mind-befuddlement that comes from taking a drop too much. But to me, completely outside that world, that framework of meaning, it just looks entirely childish and ridiculous. Perhaps almost all human behaviour can look ridiculous to an outside observer who doesn’t identify with what’s going on. The Hare Krishna parade looked to me rather sad and embarrassed - but I am sure that it had meaning to those involved, since it presumably is part of what gives their life meaning.

And the shoppers on Oxford Street and Regent Street, what do they think they’re doing? Does buying things give life meaning? How has shopping come to assume such a huge importance in our lives? I mean, shopping which goes far beyond buying the necessities and a few luxuries. And I’m not immune to this. My home is full of things I’ve bought and which, in the end are useless or I dont’ really want them.

Into Greenwich Park, where there are people as far as the eye can see: families and groups picnicking, boys and young men playing football; kids doing roly-polies down any convenient slope; dogs chasing balls; young parents with their babies in prams and push-chairs; even one young lad climbing a tree and then calling his parents to rescue him. And all presided over, in the evening sunshine, by the Greenwich Observatory, with its time ball in the down position, looking down onto the Royal Naval College, the maritime museum and even the Dome.

Thursday 03/24/05 12:53 PM

I’ve just returned from recording my Spring ‘Pause for Thought’ scripts for BBC Radio 2. My producer (Lucy Dichmont) at Unique is excellent. She really knows how to get the best out of someone reading a script, how to get the natural voice that sounds like it’s just chatting, telling a story as it comes to mind, rather than giving a lecture.

When I first did this kind of thing many years ago (on the World Service) I sounded like a Church of England vicar - or at least how the stereotypical vicar of so many comedy sketches is supposed to sound, the voice swooping up and down and up again at the end of sentences. My producer then was David Craig and he gave me my firs lessons in reading for radio. I’ve been doing Radio 2 for some time now, but it’s not really my natural habitat (as far as writing goes); I listen mostly to Radio 4 and hardly ever to Radio 2 - well, truth to tell, never to Radio 2. So I rely on the producer to help me by editing my scripts into a more Radio 2 friendly style and by prompting me to read in the right voice.

It went well today. Hot cross buns for Macmillan the cancer charity in reception (yes, I made my contribution) and then into studio. My scripts were much more story-based this time round than in the past. I mined my Shetland experiences for a couple of them. And much to my surprise I had written them in quite a dramatic way, so they read well as stories.

Note to self: next time I do PFT scripts for Radio 2 I will start with the stories and think what the moral of the stories might be afterwards. And I must collect stories or dig into my own history for stories.

NSA table
Originally uploaded by John Barnabas.

Phil Koomen delivered and set up the National Spiritual Assembly’s new meeting table at the UK National Baha’i Centre this afternoon. The table is an exquisite piece in pearwood with maple inlay. Designed by Phil, who is a rising star in the world of designer-makers of fine furniture and who is an active member of the UK Baha’i community, the table was made by Nick, who works with Phil at his Oxfordshire workshop.

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21 March 2005

Baha’is from Westminster and some of the other London boroughs had a great Naw-Ruz party last night at the home of one of the Baha’i families in Westminster. There were well over 100 people there, as many as 140 by one estimate. Yet everyone got fed and there was some classy entertainment: a harpist; a singer-song writer who did a couple of numbers; a fruity baritone from Hammersmith whose voice had seen better days and who sang, unaccompanied, a song about - inappropriately for a Spring festival - autumn leaves; and Anthony & Joyce singing Baha’i prayers to music written by Anthony. Actually, Anthony’s music is what I enjoyed most and felt was most appropriate for a Baha’i festival.

It was an extraordinary diverse gathering: toddlers to grannies (including yoof), different ethnicities, different religions, diversity of all kinds. And we had a great time. Our hosts were, as always, very welcoming.

Cherry blossom, Hyde Park, Spring 2004
Originally uploaded by John Barnabas.

I thought a picture of blossom in Hyde Park would remind us of Spring. I have to admit, thought, this was taken last Spring.

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20 March 2005

Ooh, it’s definitely colder today. There was quite a chill wind in Hyde Park and the sky is overcast. The forecast is for sunny intervals and even good old sun later in the afternoon. But the temperature will only reach 11?C.

Walking our dog in the park is always a challenge. Border collies are intelligent dogs, but can be rather obsessional. Emma, who is now an elderly dog, is typical of the breed. Her vocabulary is too darned big - you can’t have much a conversation in her hearing without her thinking there’s something in it for her; she’s great with people, especially with children (she adores our grandchildren); but she’s a menace with other dogs.

Yesterday in the park two dogs that were accompanying a jogger came up from behind and rounded on Emma. They looked like they wanted to play, but Emma - as always - bared her teeth and snarled. One of the other two dogs responded in kind and before I knew it I was in the middle of a whirling mass of snarling, snapping dogs. I had grabbed Emma’s harness and lifted her front paws of the ground in an effort to stop her going for the other dogs, but she span round. As she did so, the clip that holds the harness gave way, she lurched and her teeth closed on the inside of my thigh, giving me a nasty nip.

When I got back to the flat I found that she’d flayed a bit of skin off my leg. But the fabric of my trousers was completely undamaged. Emma was definitely not attacking me, but it hurt for a while.

We need 360? vision taking the dog for a walk. We’re always alert for other dogs appearing over the horizon, but sometimes, as yesterday, they take one by surprise.

20 March 2005

A 7 minute interview this morning at 7.10am - yes, I was already up and breakfasted to be ready to fast for the day - about Naw-Ruz and the Bah?’?? Faith on BBC Radio London’s In Spirit programme with Jumok? Fashola. I always enjoy talking to Jumok? - she’s one of those interviewers who treats the interview as a friendly conversation rather than as a debate or a battle of wits. We tend to laugh our way through the interview and it’s much easier to do a good interview when you’re relaxed - at least, I find it so. I can be much more down-to-earth, demotic, than when I’m doing an interview on the World Service or Radio 4, for example.

Radio is a wonderful medium, much more personal and intimate than TV. Anyway, I hate having to watch what my face is doing, to be sure that I’m not picking my nose or making silly gestures. On radio you can do interviews in your pyjamas if you want to and you can do what you like with your face and hands - although it is important to smile because the voice sounds much warmer through a smile. Curious that, but I’ve learned that over the years from experienced producers. It’s the same even if recording a Pause for Thought script. Smile, imagine your speaking to a good friend, and you sound more natural. Just think Alistair Cooke’s Letter from America: they were the gold standard of radio talks.

The first time I did radio talks was on the BBC World Service many years ago. I was working as a staff member at the Bah?’?? Centre in London when we were visited by a man who was working to establish a peace museum in Verdun, the French town around which some of the worst battles on the Western Front had taken place during the First World War. Anyway, this man, whose name I now forget, had come to London to try to raise funds and we were looking after him. I was given the job of taking him to Bush House to be interviewed for the BBC World Service. We got into the studio for the interview (by Trevor Barnes) and David Craig, the producer, sat me in front of one of the microphones and said, ‘You can give the Bah?’?? view on the peace museum’. Well, I had no idea what the Bah?’?? view was on this particular issue - I was only there to act as an escort for the main man - but I fielded some questions from Trevor Barnes and we finished the interview. As I got up to leave, David Craig took me on one side and said, ‘You have a good radio voice. We must have some material from you.’

Well, I needed no second bidding. I dropped him a reminder and before I knew where I was I’d been commissioned to write and record some scripts for Words of Faith, then the World Service’s equivalent of Pause for Thought. I was filling in for another contributor who couldn’t fulfil his contract. I was as nervous as hell, but David Craig gave me my first lessons in radio delivery. ‘We can’t have you sounding like a Church of England vicar,’ he said, and proceeded to show me how to make a written script sound like an informal chat.

Since then I’ve worked with many different producers. Each one has his or her own particular ways of doing things, but the lessons I learned from David Craig back in the early 90s are still the foundation of what I do when I record a script.

The real gift that first time, however, wasn’t the lesson in reading scripts or even the cheque from the BBC. It was the letter I received some time later from a friend. Now, this was no ordinary letter. For a start off it was written on what looked suspiciously like toilet paper. Secondly, it came from Mongolia. Not from the Ulan Baatar, the capital, but from the remote Altai Mountains, where my friend, a musicology student, was living in a ger (the traditional felt tent) with a nomadic Mongolian family while studying the traditional music of Mongolia.

The Mongolians are not great on personal space. When your family or tribe all live together in a few gers there’s not a lot of room for personal space. In any case, survival depends on the close support of the family. But Sean isn’t a Mongolian nomad; he needed a bit of space to himself, so he’d gone into his own ger for a little privacy. The family were worried that perhaps he was ill and they followed him into his tent. To distract them he turned on his radio and began to twirl the dial. Suddenly, through the crackle and hiss, he heard a voice speaking with what he described as a Home Counties accent. He lost the voice and then there it was again. Hang on, he thought, I know that voice. It’s Barney Leith. And he’s talking about the Bah?’?? Faith.

As Sean said in his letter, two of his worlds immediately collided. The immediate world of the Mongolian nomadic family and his background world of the Bah?’?? Faith. He wrote, ‘It is late August and the first snow of the winter is beginning to fall in the remote Altai Mountains.’ And then he described how he’d come to hear me.

That was a most precious letter for me. It had made its way via the British Embassy in Ulan Baatar to London and eventually to me. It gave me an almost vertiginous feel of the shear reach of the BBC World Service. The voice of London reaches even the remotest parts of the world. David Craig had told me that some 20 million people would listen to my talks on the World Service and that, for most of them, English was a second language at best. To be honest, I found that rather intimidating. An audience of 20 million. I mean, that’s really scary! But then he gave me the wisest advice: when you speak on radio you’re speaking to just one person.

Sean was the first Bah?’?? in Mongolia and there’s now a thriving Bah?’?? community in that sparsely populated country. Sean himself is currently Managing Director of Ealing Studios.