Journal

Homo volans in moat

Flew to Schipol on Sunday – then train to Leiden – for my first Board meeting with the Global Reporting Initiative (GRI).  Held in a little castle with a moat.  Outgoing Board members included Born Stigson of WBCSD and Judy Henderson, who I first knew when she was with Oxfam.  Jacqueline Aloisi de Larderel, long an ally when she ran the UNEP’s trade, industry and economics department in Paris, was also due to step down – but has mercifully agreed to stay n for a year until the new head of the Paris office has the time to take over.

I confess I was feeling fairly down about the prospects of such initiatives to survive the impending financial storm, let alone thrive and drive the level of change needed in the world.  But an impending KPMG survey suggests that the GRI approach to sustainability reporting continues to make major inroads around the world.  And I have been asked back in September to explore new business models for GRI, which could be interesting.

More positively still, the moat had a wonderful statue of a birdman, a combination of a heron (my lucky bird) and a human figure.  Homo volans, whatever the sculptor may have labelled the piece.  I got my shoes very wet creeping around through the grass to catch a picture of a real heron that had alighted behind the statue, but maned the trick. 

Later, I had to wait 7-8 hours at Schipol to catch a flight home, because my rock-bottom fare tied me to a late night flight, but I used the time to read I bought in Schipol, The Nuremberg Interviews, by Leon Goldensohn – an American psychiatrist wh interviewed two dozen leaders of the Third Reich who were charged with carrying out genocide.  They included Hans Frank, Hermann Goering and Joachim von Ribbentrop. 

A very different form of accountability, but absolutely fascinating.  And sickening how George W. Bush, Dick Cheney et al have managed to undermine the legacy of those who fought to ensure new forms of global justice.

Spiral at gate   Equine reception   Reflection   Guinea fowl in conference   Homo volans 1   Homo volans 2   Homo volans 3   Light and sunset

Yesterday I sent Gaia and Hania a link to a delightful video a Brazilian friend had sent me – and Gaia replied today with a link to her favourite ad, which I agree is quite wonderful.  It may be for Smirnoff, and God knows how many of their bottles have ended up beneath the waves, but it’s breath-taking to watch and raises the odd issue in terms of how we treat our seas and oceans.  Watch the ad here.

Cycled in, starting out in weather that almost demanded gloves and yet warming up significantly by the time I was beetling through Hyde Park.  My first full day at Volans, at the 2 Bloomsbury Place offices, with a fair old turn-out: Alejandro (Litovsky), Ben (Whitlock), Charmian (Love), Sam (Lakha), Smita (Sircar) and I, most of us beavering away to get the new website ready for the ‘soft launch’ on Wednesday.  

The main room was perfumed by the flowers Charmian had bought this morning to welcome Sam into the new order, an arrangement which included eucalyptus, lilies and the most extraordinary Triffid-like purple flowers, that looked as though they had been shaped in a waffle iron.

Find I am enjoying myself rather a lot.  As I was leaving this evening. Sam gave me a card this evening, by one of Gaia’s favourite artists, David Shrigley, which said: ‘NO SPEED LIMIT ANYMORE.’ Then it said: ‘GO AS FAST AS YOU WANT … LIKE IN GERMANY.’  And I do feel as if my life has shifted into quite another gear.

Arrived home lateish this evening, with a lovely Moon over Hyde Park, then sat down to watch Joanna Lumley in ‘The Land of the Northern Lights’, which screened last night.  Todays reviews gave it a bit of a pasting, as fey, but I found her enthusiasm for the world beyond the Arctic Circle affecting rather than affected, and the sequences of the Northern Lights proper were staggering.

A Volans-like artwork inside the school   Geodesic dome

After Hod Hill, we decided to pay a visit to Bryanston, which more than any other institution put its stamp on me – paradoxically enabling me to cultivate a spirit of independence.  Having made ourselves known, we had the run of the place and the grounds, which was rather extraordinary. 

One of the real pleasures was to see the geodesic dome by the Science block.  I was at Bryanston with, among others, Ian Keay, who eventually would be our best man.  He used to build geodesic domes out of matchsticks, and helped spark my interest in Buckminster Fuller, who I would meet a decade or so later in Reykjavik.  Huge changes in the place, but, reassuringly, it still feels pretty much the same.

Front   Back   Elaine   Back 2   Dome 2   Flowering   ‘Forrester’ House – now renamed, but my home from home then   Butterfly artwork – reminding us that this is a terrible year for butterflies

Elaine shoots me as a ghost

The other hill fort that I spent many an afternoon atop during the early 1960s, generally with friends and flagons of cider after cycling across from Bryanston, was Hod Hill.  Up we went again this morning, with rain spitting now and then, and the sun blasting through fitfully, with great dark clouds roiling by. 

The path to Hod   Ramparts again   Elaine 1   Elaine 2   Elaine 3