Où est La Place Jane Austen?

Just back from France (Provence, wine, the air heady with the scent of lavender and thyme - very Jean de Florette) where I was once again struck by the French penchant for naming streets after individuals. In most French towns you will find places, cours, boulevards, rues and avenues named after Jean Jaures, Victor Hugo and Balzac. And in spite of their reputation, the French warmly embrace foreigners with Roosevelt, John F Kennedy and Churchill all finding their way into French A to Zs. This desire to commemorate the lives and work of great politicians, poets and polyglots has even led to the renaming of metro stations hence stops in memory of Simon Bolivar, Raymond Queneau and Pierre & Marie Curie. The French are not alone in this, in South Africa there has been a huge amount of renaming in honour of the heroes of the anti-apartheid struggle (although if I were Albertina Sisulu I might be a tad annoyed that my contribution to the freedom of my nation was marked by the naming a highway after me). In Britain on the other hand we tend to shy away from this kind of adulation. Yes there may be a few Churchill Avenues and Mandela Places scattered about the country but in general we don't like naming things after people (except monarchs) and certainly would avoid renaming somewhere after someone however great. We don't go in for hero worship. So sadly we won't be seeing Oxford Street renamed Darwin Street (although anyone familiar with that thoroughfare knows it is an excellent spot to witness the survival of the fittest first hand), Jane Austen will not be immortalised as a square nor Charles Dickens as a train station - but check out Simon Patterson's the Great Bear to see how the tube map might look if we were prepared to be a bit more imaginative in how we acknowledge the accomplishments of the great and the good.

Milk, no sugar please

I am in Sweden staying with friends - house with the forest on one side and a lake on the other, lots of talking and eating around a big wooden table. If it wasn't for the X-box in the corner I could be in a Carl Larsson painting. Lovely. Well it is now. Days one and two were completely clouded by the absence of tea. I mean real tea, not peppermint, chamomile, green or Earl Grey but proper builder's tea, known in better circles English Breakfast blend. It was pretty horrific. Those of you who know me well have witnessed the rapid descent into grumpiness that is prompted by my not having regular doses of tannin pumped into me. I am an addict I make no bones about it. You would think therefore that I would lap up the Earl Grey purchased for me by my thoughtful coffee-drinking friends. But I can't. Its too fragrant. Its just not a proper cuppa. And yet it is ubiquitous. At cafes and restaurants here the response to an order for tea is to bring a cup of hot water and an Earl Grey teabag on the side (I know, as in America and France, the general populous in Sweden remains oblivious to the correct method of making a brew). And waiters and hosts alike are perplexed by my lack of enthusiasm for the delicate blend. They have fallen for the Earl Grey spin that it is the blend of choice amongst the great British tea-drinking public! As if. On day two, with anxiety levels rising I ventured to a supermarket where I purchased an horrifically-priced-even-for-Sweden packet of breakfast teabags. I shall not be taking any risks next week when I go to the south of France with an ample supply of the good stuff in my bag.

Respecting the dead

And so Harry Patch was lied to rest almost 100 years after so many of his comrades. The last Tommy, he survived a terrible war and spent much of his life after his days in the trenches speaking out for peace, calling for disputes to be resolved through reconciliation. It is important that we remember him and the sacrifices made by the Lost Generation and by the men and women who have died in subsequent conflicts across the world. But I don't believe I can be the only person who was disturbed by the number of people who turned out to watch his funeral. I have real doubts that the people who crowded outside Wells Cathedral did so out of respect or in remembrance of fallen heroes. I have a terrible suspicion that they, or at least many of them, were funeral tourists. It is a phenomenon which I have been observing for some time. The first obvious incidence was the funeral of Princess Diana, but more recently we saw it at the death of Jade Goody. And in the last few weeks, this mawkish behaviour has been infecting the streets of Wootten Bassett where the simple gesture of respect to service personnel killed abroad made by locals has been tarnished by tourists who come to gawp at the corteges. I know I shouldn't be surprised, I am disturbed by it and wish, like so many things, it would stop. Let's respect the dead, not send picture messages from outside funeral.

What do we want . . .

I am in rant mode. I have been since the weekend and have had to wait until I calmed down a bit. So what or rather who has got my gander up? Arise Mr Phil Woolas, Immigration Minister, who has effectively declared that demonstrating is anti-social behaviour, and any applicant for British citizenship who has the temerity to protest should have points docked from their points-based application. As someone who has spent a large part of her life on marches, pickets and handing out leaflets and who came to this country as an asylum seeker I am, to say the least, upset. I definitely wouldn't have passed the Woolas test - I protested against apartheid and BNP and for peace. Under his criteria I am an undesirable. But he is wrong. The right to demonstrate peacefully, to express your views, to protest it is a mark of a free and democratic society. We commend the people of Iran and Zimbabwe for demonstrating against stolen elections. We hold up as an example of bravery and vision the March on Washington at which Dr Martin Luther King Jr delivered his "I have a dream speech". The lone protestor standing before a tank in Tiananmen Square is one of the defining images of our time. Democracies should encourage active citizenship - the freedom to express a view, to communicate an opinion is one important way we can be active and engaged members of society.

The Wookey Hole Witch has got my knickers in a twist. I have spent much of my professional life trying to sell good stories in to the media. Stories which impact on the lives of real people - stories about improvements in the NHS, changing adoption laws, campaigns to get children fit or to fight for the rights of disabled people to name but a few. It is always hard to get a cynical, celebrity-obsessed media interested, particularly in stories where there is not obvious point of conflict - good news isn't news. I know and accept this. So today's Witch coverage has left me in the dither. I have to applaud the PR person who nicked the Tourism Queensland "best job in the world" wheeze and brought it to Somerset. Genius. Even if an cackler is employed at the going rate of £50k a year (which I seriously doubt - the hopefuls all had a drama school air about them if you ask me), it will be money well spent. The coverage has been phenomenal. But I have to ask how has the media been so taken in - the BBC has been broadcasting live down there all day, it is running on Sky and the story has made the print and on-line media. I know we are in the silly season but really?

Where are the white coats when you need them?

I cannot be the only person confused and sightly irritated by the conflicting advice on swine flu. Andy Burnham's interview on the Today programme this morning prompted much shouting at the radio. With various sources producing conflicting, and in at least one case bonkers, advice over the weekend, what we needed this morning was a clear message on what people, including pregnant women, should do to protect themselves. Instead we got a minister telling us that it was up to us to decide what to do, how to behave. Surely this can't be right? I am not a health care professional, I have never been to medical school and come from the "unless a bit of me has actually fallen off I will come into work" school of work ethics. I need doctors, people in white coats, people who do this kind of thing for a living giving me clear and sensible advice. I know that public health messages are notoriously difficult to communicate but those in charge of managing the message have our attention, so their task is a much easier. Now we just need some simple and practical guidance. And for the media to report it calmly.

The Force was with us

Glad tidings of great joy. The campaigning paid off and last night my boss, Vivien Hepworth, was recognised by the public affairs world for her outstanding contribution to the industry. It was wonderful. Was there really any doubt? There always is (except if you stand in Iran perhaps). Even in these circumstances where we had a great candidate, a reasonable and non-taxing ask and lots of potential voters we could not be certain of victory. Getting people to vote is not easy even when they agree with you. They have be persuaded that it is worth making the effort. That is why among all the policy talk, political parties try to play on people's emotions. Mainly they try to scare us (24 hours to save the NHS, tax whammies). Occasionally they manage to inspire us (Yes, we can). Last night I relied on the old "create an enemy" ploy. So I positioned the campaign for Vivien in Star Wars terms - good against evil, Obi-Wan against Darth Vader. And last night was without doubt the Return of the Jedi.