One way or another

There's only been one topic of conversation in Otley for the last few days: the one-way system. (Actually, and before any pedantic interjections, one of the one-way systems; I wouldn't like to give the impression that this is such a small place that it can't boast of two of the things) Anyway, the authorities decided to reverse the direction overnight on Thursday resulting in anarchy with a capital A ("Isn't anarchy with a capital A simply Anarchy" asks the Rhetorical Pedant, who can be kept out no longer. "No." is the reply.) There were some hopes that the mass civil disobedience as the motoring public insisted on driving the wrong way along the roads involved, was a symbol of their determination to not be cowed by The Man, but sadly it was almost certainly just a reflection of the selfishness of everyone when they get behind the wheel and the fact that they can't be bothered to read road signs or - as I witnessed with my own eyes - to obey the raised hand of a police officer. Good job we're not in the US.

In Otley obeying this is optional

Anyway, I braved the chaos with a capital C ("You've done that one!") to head off for some boardgame action. All of which reminds me that I didn't report on last week's games. So, briefly:

• Sheriff of Nottingham - a rather good bluffing game at which I sucked
• Sail to India  - which I think was the first time I'd played where we managed to get the rules right - a very good game
• Boom: Runaway  - impossible to describe or teach, but a quick and clever game
• Family Business  - always brings out the worst in people
• Quantum - which I like; a clever design
• Ticket to Ride: Europe - I'd never played this version before, but did as badly as usual
• Among the Stars - a so-so game which I won by concentrating on the end scoring phase

Cranking up the pretentiousness

There has been too much wargaming here recently so it's time for some pseudery. I was reading this week's Polemarch and felt moved to add a comment referencing Herbert Read. Now at that point one could either reach for the Foster's paddle of rebuke or one could press on regardless.

Having no shame I opt for some poetry by Read, an anarchist who accepted a knighthood and was therefore just the type of inconsistent chap to inspire your bloggist. An art critic - he championed Henry Moore and Barbara Hepworth - he served in the First War and is of course best known as a war poet. However, you're not interested in that; you want some politics.

A Song for the Spanish Anarchists

The golden lemon is not made
but grows on a green tree:
A strong man and his crystal eyes
is a man born free.

The oxen pass under the yoke
and the blind are led at will:
But a man born free has a path of his own
and a house on the hill

And man are men who till the land
and women are women who weave:
Fifty men own the lemon grove
and no man is a slave.

- Sir Herbert Read