Billy and the bananas

On Friday evening I got to hear - and briefly talk to - Billy Bragg. On Saturday morning I encountered a large number of bananas. It was an unusual beginning to the weekend.

Billy Bragg was "in conversation." Tickets cost £3 and, as my son's a fan, I bought two. Then my son was ill with a virus. At the last minute, I asked a colleague. She turned out to be a fan and was delighted at the invitation - she'd been too late to get a ticket. "I'm going to marry Billy Bragg," she told me, as we headed to the event. "My husband says it's fine and he quite understands, so long as it's Billy."

I didn't have quite the same enthusiasm. I enjoy some of Billy Bragg's songs and was interested to hear him talk but half my reason for attending was to report back to my son.

Within two minutes' of Billy Bragg's arrival, I knew I'd made the right decision. He's quick-witted, intelligent, funny, modest and passionate about changing the world. One of the questioners from the audience asked why he didn't stand from parliament. Billy gave two answers. First, he's a singer, not a politicians. And second, he thinks politics is for ever, not just professional politicians.

I don't always agree with Billy. I can see why he thinks patriotism is important (and I'd like "Jerusalem" as an English national anthem) but I simply don't share his love of country. I love places and people but I'm not a patriot in that sense. Perhaps I felt an outsider to early in my life. And I think Billy is too optimistic - but that's a good fault. I wouldn't mind sharing his optimism.

What I share is his concern to involve people in political action and public debate. There are dangers in that - people won't always make the right decision - but sometimes the people are right and their leaders wrong. At least 1 in 50 people in Britain marched against the Iraq war and they were supported by the majority of the population. That opposition came out of public debate - but the leaders told us contemptuously that we were wrong, stupid and cowardly. On the question of Iraq, the majority was right and our leaders were disastrously, cruelly wrong.

Billy was on his way to a gig for the 25th anniversary of the miners' strike. He'd been involved in the campaign to support the miners. I wasn't. Living in London at the time, I thought Arthur Scargill should call a ballot - and that no government would ever close the coalmines on the scale Scargill suggested. I was wrong. I couldn't have done much to support the striking miners but I wish I'd done something.

On the day that Billy prepared for his gig, I too took political action - but it was more modestly expressed. I ate a banana.

It was part of an attempt to set a world banana-eating record (the most in a particular place in a 24-hour period) in support of Fair Trade. There were fairly-traded goods to try (mostly cake and chocolate) as well as games and information. Quite a few people were dressed as bananas.

I'm in support of Fair Trade. Rich countries have a bad record of exploiting poor people in poor countries, forcing them to work for low wages. Obviously we should pay decent wages rather than forcing farmers and labourers into near-destitution. But I'm uncomfortable about the way bigger companies have begun to use Fair Trade to lure shoppers away from small companies and shops. Cadbury is to start using Fair Trade cocoa in its chocolate bars, guaranteeing the minimum Fair Trade wage to its producers. But the world price of cocoa has risen so much in the recent market turmoil that it's not going to cost Cadbury anything just now.

The Fair Trade bananas which we ate for our attempt on the record were provided by Sainsbury's. Speakers thanked Sainsbury's for their generosity and the people in the square applauded. But I wonder what the small greengrocer on the edge of the square thought. Hallam's has been selling fish and vegetables for more than a century. I don't eat fish but the vegetables are good and often grown locally. They had a fine display of organic, fairly-traded bananas - but I wonder how many people bought from Hallam's when Sainsbury's was giving bananas away.

The richest man in Europe

Today it's quiet. As I looked at the Mill buildings I thought how elegant the designs were. The buildings seem perfectly proportioned and in complete harmony with the leafy cliffs and hills.

As I sat outside the cafe at Arkwright's Mill with my friends Jane and Iyamide, Jane slipped small cake-crumbs to the ducks. The duck kept her distance as the drake approached but Jane was careful to see that each got a little treat. Then we decided to take the tour.

Our guide was an enthusiast for the energy, imagination and inventiveness of Richard Arkwright. He sketched the story of how this tailor's son had been apprenticed to a barber and wig-maker. Inventive and aware of trends, he began work on two machines to spin and card cotton. Writers of the day were shocked by women's sudden enthusiasm for cotton under-garments.

Arkwright found people to invest in his inventions and bought land in Derbyshire to set up the first huge cotton mill. No-one's sure how many people worked there: some say 1,500 but some estimates are as high as 5,000. By the standards of the time, he was probably a good employer, although there were penalties for misbehaviour; anyone arriving late at work would lose two days' pay. However there was also evidence of kindness, celebrations and encouragement of inventors. Houses were provided where families could grow vegetables and keep animals. To qualify for these, a worker had to have at least eleven children. Arkwright needed to increase his workforce.

It's hard to think back from the peace of present-day Cromford to the excitement, vigour and danger of those times. I started to think of the noise as the mill buildings were erected - all that scaffolding, the constant labour, the redirecting of waterways. Then there were navvies hacking into the land to build the canal and the almost constant racket of machines in the mill. The machines worked 23 hours a day. Further off was other, intolerable work. The cotton was picked by slaves in the American south.

Arkwright struggled to protect his inventions. The patents left out crucial details so that the designs couldn't be stolen. ("But that's illegal," cried Jane, who knows about patent law.) The first two floors in the mill buildings were windowless so that no spy could see in. There were canons to guard against Luddites. I thought about the working conditions and poverty - and the anxious hand-spinners, carders and weavers whose hard-earned skills had become redundant. I have some sympathy with the Luddites. Iyamide drew parallels with present questions about fairly-traded cotton and clothes produced in sweatshops. She has travelled much more widely than me and told me about visiting Pakistan where she gave simple ballpoint pens to girls she met to help with their schooling.

Arkwright and his mill flourished. By the time he died, he was the richest man in England. His son, who inherited his wealth, became the richest man in Europe.

Cromford is quieter now but there's it's still a place where people think. Scarthin Books is a bibliophile's dream and hosts all kinds of events, including a regular philosophical cafe. The nearby Boat Inn, where I had a very pleasant half of Black Sheep ale, has a storytelling evening every month. We'd planned to go on to Wirksworth to follow the Adam Bede trail but we didn't make it. There was enough to do and see in Cromford and we took time for conversation and catching up.

Wirksworth next time, perhaps.