Two Stauntons and a Phoenix

It was gratifying to hear that Kemi Badenoch's sacrificial lamb, the former Post Office chair, Henry Staunton; sacked for allegedly lying about being briefed by government to slow down the compensation - hereinafter, redress - to the victims of the appalling Post Office scandal, has shown his teeth under oath at today's committee hearing, after having heard the current Post Office CEO earlier apparently perjure himself, also under oath. From what we are to gather thus far, it would seem that heads will inevitably have to roll: what needs to follow is the immediate criminal prosecution of all parties involved in this continuing criminal conspiracy and the immediate institution of financial and reputational redress to all sub-postmasters and their families who fell foul of this bunch of crooks, forthwith. Let's hope Henry Staunton's gambit pays off for the right people, and Badenoch and her ilk get their just deserves as soon as possible.

The Phoenix in this little ragbag of a post is The Crooked House, Himley [blog posts passim] in the West Midlands. This former Black Country pub, as was widely reported last year, was bought, burnt and demolished within a few short weeks, and the remains carted away for salvage. That this was the place where my wife and I had our first date some fifty-two years ago, and that many stories such as ours could be similarly told is only a part of its long and storied local history, and the appalling ignominy inflicted on it by money-grubbing philistines staggered not just those with a connection to the place, but many others who never set foot in it. Anyhow, the good news is that The Glynne Arms (it's given name) is apparently now to be rebuilt, under court order, by its destroyers. Let's hope it will be resurrected promptly, as we also hope for speedy reparations to be made to the sub-postmasters, and that all of this happens, likewise, in a timely fashion.

The second Staunton is the one after whom the eponymous chess set design was named. I read and watch a lot of chess content online, and used to play over the board for my local pub in the Gwynedd league, many years ago, although I seldom play anything other than a chess engine - occasionally - these days. However, I've always loved the standard Staunton set, especially a full-size competition one: it's a thing of tactile beauty and an unequivocally recognisable symbol-set all of its own. Previous to its universal adoption, there was often confusion when players from one cultural background played others from another: their chess sets, unlike the rules of the game itself, often quite different. Although Staunton himself had no input into the design by Nathaniel Cook around 1835, his championing of it as the leading player in the world at the time, cemented its future as the de facto standard design to this day. I mention this one because chess, whilst an abstract microcosm, encapsulates some cogent truths about action, inaction and consequence. In chess space, everyone can hear you scream. It would appear, that at last, the same would seem to be the case in Post Office space...