2019

 

Subject: 2019

The fireworks have gone and the starry sky given way to the black, never ending outer space. After the party we nurse our headache and wonder what it was all about, this celebrating a new year. As day follows night so we pick up where we left off struggling to piece together our place in the scheme of things. 

This will of course be a year to be reckoned with. It's the year when we came out again, like chicks emerging from their mothers protection surreally exposed after weeks of seclusion and forced feeding we now have to forage for ourselves. Full of dangers which we were protected from by the discipline of someone else who said they knew better, we now have to forge our own links with reality. That Bald Eagle in the sky or the Chinese dragon patiently waiting for our representative to call and are but two of a plethora of connections we have to forge to seek recognition in the world at large.
The chick, in its naivety noisily demands attention from its protector. The mother seeks to instil some sort of rudimentary knowledge before the young chick flies off the nest to make its own way but as every mother knows it's never enough and just around the corner lies some event which will be the make or break from there on.
We have reached that point as we attempt to leave the European nest. As in nature, it has to be done to fulfill our full potential, a potential we assume is there to assume. Soon we will know. Sufficient numbers of the population felt there was room for change. 
The cloister atmosphere of the EU Commissioners remit, like the monks in a monastery could only see what was inside the walls of their monastic desire but we, the Anglophile who remembers their colonial ambitions and the fame and fortune they brought wants to reopen the book, page 47 to try to rekindle those old fires who's embers never truly went out.