Today we mourn the passing of Brexit day. It has died, not through one terminal defect, but by a thousand slices to its heart. None of our representatives has the mantle of a hero in the fray, or can ride from the field with valour. Mrs May alone has stood firm in purpose: some may suppose too firm, to the point of rigidity, and like the oak in a storm she has been felled when a willow might have bent to the gales. Now we will see the worms crawl from the earth to consume the carcass.
Interesting to read Sarah Vine's article praising May's ability, determination and general character. This is the same Vine who, married to Michael Gove, encouraged him to stab Boris in the back and stand for leader in his place. Now she is working to establish his credentials as a good and loyal Tory who worked tirelessly for his party's flawed policies, even as these ran in total contradiction to his own stated views. He is already a runner in the next leadership race, but way behind Boris in the popularity stakes; I speculate that Sarah Vine is already helping with some plot to take Boris down.
I hold no candle for any of them. May has not even had the courage to exit cleanly, but is clinging on in a desperate attempt to "secure her legacy" - as the woman who got us out of Europe! I do not think she will succeed, but will go down in history as "the woman who failed to get us out". I can now see no future for the leave campaign; I fear we will be dragged as in a vortex to an inevitable lengthy extension and ultimate humiliation as we crawl back into the black hole of subjugation and gradual decline.
Friday, 29 March 2019
Thursday, 28 March 2019
The war drums sound
An interview with a labour TUC leader this afternoon saw her perpetuating the ageist myth. Asked how she reconciled the high number of leavers in working class areas with her claim that Brexit will impact on jobs, she explained that the young workers in the north had voted to remain; it was just the unemployed and retired elderly there who wanted to stay. I have been doubly slimed – I am the working elderly, yet she says my voice was of no importance; only the voice of young workers "who voted to remain" should carry weight. I judge that the war of words is only just beginning!
Ann and Edwin have gone into London to meet their friend Sylvia, while I watch the dogs. In the park, the woodpecker was drumming his tree like a war drum. I used to be taught that he did this to forage by encouraging insects and grubs to emerge, but this must be wrong – they only make the drumming sound in the spring, and I'm sure the insects don't pop out spontaneously for the rest of the year, or he'd starve. No, the drumming is clearly a mating ritual that ceases within a few weeks. I have only once seen one, two years ago when I moved slowly for half-an-hour beneath the trees with a crick in my neck. I took a photo then, but lost it when I updated my camera.
Tonight, I attended another Labour Party meeting. Not a lot seems to happen at these meetings, but they pass motions encouraging an end to child poverty or the shortage of doctors in Haverhill, and pass the resolutions on to the local MP or other appropriate group, where they are quietly ignored. Elections for the local council are to be held in May, and I was asked to stand for the Hundon ward, which might have been flattering except that at the moment the candidacy is vacant and they are desperate. However, I do not feel I could do the role justice. I have zero ability to bring diplomacy or tact to a meeting, and am too intolerant to suffer the shortcomings of others, for I know I have enough of my own to cope with.
Ann and Edwin have gone into London to meet their friend Sylvia, while I watch the dogs. In the park, the woodpecker was drumming his tree like a war drum. I used to be taught that he did this to forage by encouraging insects and grubs to emerge, but this must be wrong – they only make the drumming sound in the spring, and I'm sure the insects don't pop out spontaneously for the rest of the year, or he'd starve. No, the drumming is clearly a mating ritual that ceases within a few weeks. I have only once seen one, two years ago when I moved slowly for half-an-hour beneath the trees with a crick in my neck. I took a photo then, but lost it when I updated my camera.
Tonight, I attended another Labour Party meeting. Not a lot seems to happen at these meetings, but they pass motions encouraging an end to child poverty or the shortage of doctors in Haverhill, and pass the resolutions on to the local MP or other appropriate group, where they are quietly ignored. Elections for the local council are to be held in May, and I was asked to stand for the Hundon ward, which might have been flattering except that at the moment the candidacy is vacant and they are desperate. However, I do not feel I could do the role justice. I have zero ability to bring diplomacy or tact to a meeting, and am too intolerant to suffer the shortcomings of others, for I know I have enough of my own to cope with.
Tuesday, 26 March 2019
Women advance their cause
I fully support female equality. I wish to state this at the outset because some unkind critics have suggested I may be a covert misogynist. I am not. I delight in women's achievements, and am glad to see them finally progressing up the equality stakes. They should get equal pay for the same jobs, and there should be no bar to progress in the boardroom, or to funding applications in academia. Indeed, from the number of female presenters and commentators we now see on television, I believe the balance is being redressed well, and the average should soon overtake the number of males. This is a good thing. Indeed, women are advancing in all fields so rapidly that their successes will soon out-perform those of men.
Women are certainly our equal, and in many ways our superiors. A recent study of brain scans in foetuses suggested that there are some innate differences in the structures according to gender. This was conducted in foetuses to avoid any later social influences. This has now been firmly debunked by a neuroscientist in a new book, who showed that the research was badly biased, and there are probably no important differences. However, such is the rate of progress in women's ambitions that, should such differences ever actually be shown to be present and of statistical significance, I believe that women will be fully justified in claiming that such differences signify a superiority in females, and lend force to their advancement in society beyond mere equality.
At least a world run by women will be more just, sensible and peaceful. No matter how much equality they get, I judge that female leaders such as Thatcher, May and Aung San Suu Kyi of Thailand will never match Genghis Khan, Trump or Stalin for severity, ineptitude or cruelty.
Women are certainly our equal, and in many ways our superiors. A recent study of brain scans in foetuses suggested that there are some innate differences in the structures according to gender. This was conducted in foetuses to avoid any later social influences. This has now been firmly debunked by a neuroscientist in a new book, who showed that the research was badly biased, and there are probably no important differences. However, such is the rate of progress in women's ambitions that, should such differences ever actually be shown to be present and of statistical significance, I believe that women will be fully justified in claiming that such differences signify a superiority in females, and lend force to their advancement in society beyond mere equality.
At least a world run by women will be more just, sensible and peaceful. No matter how much equality they get, I judge that female leaders such as Thatcher, May and Aung San Suu Kyi of Thailand will never match Genghis Khan, Trump or Stalin for severity, ineptitude or cruelty.
Monday, 25 March 2019
Birmingham
A good weekend in Birmingham meeting son Ben and Kaz, and brother Richard and Chris. We stayed in the old Rotunda in the heart of Birmingham, now converted into wealthy apartments and renamed Staying Cool. Ann's father had worked on the building during its construction in the early '60s and when it was offices Ann herself had taken a comptometer course there, something now confined to commercial museums and Wikipedia.
Ben has a stressful job helping people on low income or income support to sort out their debts and finances. It is not an easy job. He may struggle for them to obtain some money to help them through, but the following week when he returns, they have blown it on a pedigree dog or a huge television rather than pay of the rent arrears, then they expect to get another payment.
One heart-breaking story he told was how the drug gangs recruit young school children, offering huge payments that outdo teachers' salaries, then use threats against them or their families to keep them there. Children who wish to leave, or may have been robbed and can't pay the money they owe, face the threat of amputations, which have occasionally happened: but this doesn't seem to get in the news much. The police find it very difficult to get information, for even other children who are aware of it at school, are too frightened to report it on.
On a lighter vein, we strolled from Staying Cool to take refresh in The Alchemist, a lively spot on the circuit of the youth of the city before they hit the nightclubs. The place was awash with early celebrants in the throes of tanking up and we had to elbow our way through the door to face a barrage of noise and lively faces. Then, two girls stood and offered their table to Ann and Chris, gave them big hugs and said tables were like gold dust on a Saturday night, but we could have theirs! It brightens the spirit to see such thoughtfulness. We proceeded to enjoy our fizzing, smoking concoctions in comfort, despite the noise and press of people. Brummies are the nicest people.
Ben has a stressful job helping people on low income or income support to sort out their debts and finances. It is not an easy job. He may struggle for them to obtain some money to help them through, but the following week when he returns, they have blown it on a pedigree dog or a huge television rather than pay of the rent arrears, then they expect to get another payment.
One heart-breaking story he told was how the drug gangs recruit young school children, offering huge payments that outdo teachers' salaries, then use threats against them or their families to keep them there. Children who wish to leave, or may have been robbed and can't pay the money they owe, face the threat of amputations, which have occasionally happened: but this doesn't seem to get in the news much. The police find it very difficult to get information, for even other children who are aware of it at school, are too frightened to report it on.
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| The family in Birmingham, Staying Cool |
Friday, 22 March 2019
More medical problems
West Suffolk Hospital is notorious for loosing test results. They have lost a few blood tests, ECGs, X-rays, and a full batch of respiratory tests. Once, they lost all of Mary-Anne's heart tests. But I finally managed to extract my blood test results from the GP after repeated visits and phone calls to the hospital. They showed stage 3 chronic renal failure. To put this in perspective, stage 4 requires dialysis, and stage 5 is "call the undertaker".
When Lucy heard the news, she immediately said she would be willing to donate a kidney, if required! How caring is that - the last thing I would have expected or wanted from anyone. I have been getting tired and can only walk slowly for some time now, and my taste has changed so even coffee tastes sour. I had put it down to post-radiotherapy, but perhaps it is the effect of having anaemia and being uraemic due to the kidney failure.
Yesterday came unhappy news that baby Theo was very ill, with diarrhoea and low blood sugar. He was rushed into hospital with a blue-light ambulance and kept overnight on a drip and antibiotics. This morning he was more alert though still with the diarrhoea, but the good news now is that he has been allowed to return home, so we all hope for a quick return to good health.
When Lucy heard the news, she immediately said she would be willing to donate a kidney, if required! How caring is that - the last thing I would have expected or wanted from anyone. I have been getting tired and can only walk slowly for some time now, and my taste has changed so even coffee tastes sour. I had put it down to post-radiotherapy, but perhaps it is the effect of having anaemia and being uraemic due to the kidney failure.
Yesterday came unhappy news that baby Theo was very ill, with diarrhoea and low blood sugar. He was rushed into hospital with a blue-light ambulance and kept overnight on a drip and antibiotics. This morning he was more alert though still with the diarrhoea, but the good news now is that he has been allowed to return home, so we all hope for a quick return to good health.
Wednesday, 20 March 2019
Of strokes and a death
Every mornng since returning from India, our neighbour Linda has left for the hospital early and come back late to be with her husband David, who had a major stroke out there. Today I saw her washing the car which David used to polish each morning but today it was covered in the mud of neglect, and managed to talk with her. David has been moved to a rehabilitation unit for physio and speech therapy, and this was the first day she had got for herself. But even as we spoke, the phone went and the unit said he had interpreted his limited words to say he wanted her there, so she lost the day.
Although my Japanese company has gone quiet, Galen are still sending work from Northern Ireland. Today I had a training morning for a new approval system, which ‒ unusually – actually looks easier to use and with better options than the old.
This afternoon, Mary-Anne and girls came round. They had some sad news – gravely announcing the death of their new budgie. They had only had it for a week.
Although my Japanese company has gone quiet, Galen are still sending work from Northern Ireland. Today I had a training morning for a new approval system, which ‒ unusually – actually looks easier to use and with better options than the old.
This afternoon, Mary-Anne and girls came round. They had some sad news – gravely announcing the death of their new budgie. They had only had it for a week.
Tuesday, 19 March 2019
The dentist
A visit to the dentist is always dreaded, and today came fully up to expectation. With the dentist himself I was fortunate: a couple of X-rays, a bit of poking round, and the message that the teeth were all still there and functioning normally, with no change in outlook to the dental bulletin. But then the bombshell: "We'll just get the hygienist to clean them up a bit."
The dentist only spent ten minutes with me, but the hygienist made up for that with a full half-hour of total torment. "Just try to relax," she cooed, with the soothing tones of Beria calming a victim bound for Stalin's gulag. I was taut enough for my rigid legs to be in the air, forty-five degrees from the couch like a man with tetany. My lips would not relax from the gums, and my dry tongue kept attempting to push the instruments aside in reflex protest. Luckily this emissary from hell had fixed dark protective goggles over my eyes, so she could not see the desperate terror behind the mask.
I believe, on the whole, I behaved well. I didn't swear or scream, and I forced my legs back to the couch to simulate a relaxed state. I brought my head back in line with the light, and managed to crack my mouth open a little, enough for the white-coated monster to quickly slide in a suction pipe and mirror, followed rapidly by a screaming drill. Each tooth was attacked ferociously, as though she intended to root them out like unwanted weeds at Kew. She finally finished, and proffered a small plastic cup of green swill to remove the blood and debris. I stood and shook my head, thinking the teeth might fall and scatter like beads from a broken necklace, but by some miracle they were still intact, and I had survived for another year.
When Ann came out from her check up, she was smiling and boasting of her super white teeth. "They're always so gentle and understanding there," she said, "I never mind going to them."
The dentist only spent ten minutes with me, but the hygienist made up for that with a full half-hour of total torment. "Just try to relax," she cooed, with the soothing tones of Beria calming a victim bound for Stalin's gulag. I was taut enough for my rigid legs to be in the air, forty-five degrees from the couch like a man with tetany. My lips would not relax from the gums, and my dry tongue kept attempting to push the instruments aside in reflex protest. Luckily this emissary from hell had fixed dark protective goggles over my eyes, so she could not see the desperate terror behind the mask.
I believe, on the whole, I behaved well. I didn't swear or scream, and I forced my legs back to the couch to simulate a relaxed state. I brought my head back in line with the light, and managed to crack my mouth open a little, enough for the white-coated monster to quickly slide in a suction pipe and mirror, followed rapidly by a screaming drill. Each tooth was attacked ferociously, as though she intended to root them out like unwanted weeds at Kew. She finally finished, and proffered a small plastic cup of green swill to remove the blood and debris. I stood and shook my head, thinking the teeth might fall and scatter like beads from a broken necklace, but by some miracle they were still intact, and I had survived for another year.
When Ann came out from her check up, she was smiling and boasting of her super white teeth. "They're always so gentle and understanding there," she said, "I never mind going to them."
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