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From Ed Stourton...
I should have known 鈥 it is always dangerous to put the interests of the audience ahead of those of the editor. During a discussion about weapons of mass destruction in the classical world I had to decide whether to quote from Cato in Latin or English - foolishly I elected for English, and almost before the words 鈥淐arthage must be destroyed鈥 were out of my mouth a deluge of memos on the gerund descended from Kevin Marsh. Here鈥檚 a sample; 鈥淐ato's original line - if memory serves - was "delenda Carthago" ... but I seem to recall that it is always quoted by later Latin writers as "Carthago delenda est" - when referring to what became his maxim - the senators used to shout it as the crowd of them parted as he walked through the Curia鈥.
This, though riveting, is not the sort of thing you want thrust in front of you by a man with leather patches on his elbows and a slightly other worldly expression (and, lets be honest, that really pungent wet-dog whiff which comes from long years of marinating tweed in pipe tobacco) while you are trying to work out one of Gary鈥檚 jokes about the racing selections.
It is getting quite scary in the Today programme studio; I have had a nasty rasp in the throat for the past few days and on Friday morning the likely cause became clear during a discussion about the spread of bird flu from chickens to humans.
(Listen Again)
Apparently two viruses can get together in a single cell, mate, and produce a really nasty baby virus, and this process could turn the current outbreak of bird flu in Asia into something on a par with the flu epidemic that killed tens of millions after the First World War. It suddenly occurred to me that John Humphrys is just back from Malaysia, where they鈥檝e got bird flu bad, and when the Chief Rabbi, Jonathan Sacks, who was in doing Thought for the Day, said he had just got back from Hong Kong, where they鈥檝e got SARS, I more or less accepted that I shall shortly be in one of those isolation tents being peered at by a man wearing a protective suit and a pair of Sarah鈥檚 marigolds.
Perhaps that is why everyone seems to be leaving London at the moment. Jim has flown to New Hampshire for the Democratic primary in the American presidential campaign, and Kevin has gone to the World Economic Forum at Davos in Switzerland 鈥 or 鈥淗elvetia鈥 as he insists on calling it. Odd how both places have got quite good snow at this time of year. Kevin made a rather half-hearted attempt at modernity by claiming in a laddish sort of way that 鈥淚鈥檒l be taking along my salopettes鈥 and muttering about 鈥済etting some big air in the powder鈥. But he was caught collecting a pair of plus-fours from the dry cleaners, and we found a slightly foxed copy of that much-loved classic 鈥淎lpine Walking Tours in the Footsteps of Hannibal鈥檚 Elephants鈥 on his desk.
Come to think of it Greg Wood has been away this week too鈥oing the business news from Estonia. And I distinctly heard him admitted it was snowing in Tallin while he was on the air鈥
Nightmare of the week; we did a discussion on the Philosophy of Cricket on Thursday 鈥 a brilliant idea prompted by the debate over whether there are 鈥渕oral鈥 reasons for cancelling the England cricket tour of Zimbabwe. It all went swimmingly until, with 20 seconds or so of the programme left, I asked one of our guests, a Professor of Philosophy at Cambridge, whether 鈥渋n a word鈥 he thought the tour should go ahead. 鈥淣o鈥, he said, and then, as the pips loomed into view, alarmingly added 鈥淭here are two principal sets of considerations鈥︹.
I hate having to cut people off in mid flow but the clock is unforgiving; someone afterwards suggested we should have a mechanism for continuing discussions on the internet if they get cut off when the programme ends, but as things stand we shall never know what the profs considerations were
(Listen Again...) 鈥 although Kevin was still frantically writing memos about the Greek Athletic Ideal when we bundled him onto the train, wrapped up in his muffler with his trusty blackthorn strapped to his knapsack, and wearing a rather natty pair of lederhosen he had borrowed from an Austrian he met at the Seneca Appreciation Circle which he sometimes attends.
Ed
And from Kevin Marsh...
The first thing you should know is that Davos is very, very beautiful and has just had the best snowfall of the year. Probably of any year and given the worst predictions of global warming probably the best it will ever have until mammoths return.
The other thing you should know is that I am here to work and that I have brought no skiwear of any kind.
What they never tell you about things like this - the World Economic Forum or British Party Conferences or EU summits or UN crises - is what a trek it is to get here.
Obviously it isn't for the likes of the President of Pakistan or the British Foreign Secretary or the CEO of Big Corp Inc because they fly in by private jet and helicopter. Amusingly, the organisers of the WEF sent me details of this service too. I thought about it for a while. Then thought about the other way - economy fare to Zurich 拢39 each way; train to Davos 拢40 return - and it was a tough call.
The economy flight to Zurich came and went but the train leg - three hours through that part of Switzerland you never think about - was a joy and a revelation.
First; the ticket. Or rather, the precise itinerary that came with it detailing every train, every change, every arrival and departure time, train number and platform.
Second; the train - trains - left on time. Exactly on time. At every station. To the second.
Third; I was able to spend all but the final leg in a "quiet carriage".
Actually, a silent carriage. Here, mobile phones, personal stereos, laptops with the sound on and even talking are banned. Which made my fellow passengers' visits to the lavatory that adjoined the silent carriage a revelation too far. But this was all the result - a leaflet explained - of passenger consultation and instead of ignoring passengers wants and needs in the way that non-Swiss railways do they actually did something people had asked for.
Fourth; the lavatories. I had forgotten them but they haven't changed since I first came to Switzerland in 1969 or at least the ones in the small regional trains haven't. See above for why I didn't try the one on the big train. But on the small train there was something a tad alarming and then reassuring about lifting the seat and seeing the snow and the sleepers scudding by a few feet below. Non of this U-bend or tank lark. What you see is what you hit. Also none of this tap not working stuff in the basins because there aren't taps. There's a pump. You want water you work for it - which sort of set the tone for what was to come in the temporary capital of Anglo-Saxon capitalism.
What also set the tone was an encounter with the man who ran the train bar. They have a strange - but logical and efficient system on Swiss trains - where a bar on wheels tours the upper deck of the train and when it's above your head if you're in the silent carriage a light comes on and an arrow directs you upstairs to where you can a) select refreshment and b) speak so that you can ask for it.
I do not speak German which I suspect is linked to having a grandfather who really did fight in two world wars though if that is the reason then I am ashamed of it. I am ashamed of it anyway, come to think of it and as of this night am even more ashamed.
The bar on wheels man was not Swiss but was - I think - Indian and the bulk of his business must be done in German or French and perhaps even Italian.
I stuttered something approximating a query as to whether he spoke English because if he didn't I would have to rely on those incoherent grunts that we're so good at. Obviously he did - but sensing that the absurd sounds I made of the lame German I tried might have indicated that English wasn't my first language either he reassured me that he spoke Dutch too. A global moment that made me wonder which of us it was who should be making his way to a ski resort to discuss the state of the globe and which pushing a bar on wheels about a train.
Kevin
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