Today it was
a rant, not a reasoned debate, not a dissertation but a rant against
all the things that I feel are wrong with the UK, particularly its
leaders and their short sighted, self centred agenda.
What started me
off was the news that China will soon be the "owner" of our new nuclear
power station when its built. China a communist, one party,
dictatorially controlled society which must be the absolute antithesis
to our so called, democratic,freedom orientated, legally centred country
would now be the paymaster, the decision maker of one of the most
critically, fundamental elements of our industrial environment. We will
be on the slippery slope of no longer have any control over the capacity
to provide energy to drive our industry or even heat and light our
homes.
We are exposed to Russian gas producers. We rely on French
technology for the nuclear power stations. There are no ships of any
size built here any more, instead we rely on Germany,France Italy, or
the Scandinavians. Once the greatest shipbuilding nation we now can't
produce one ship on our own.
The railways were invented on these
islands and now we have to rely on the Germans and French to produce our
rolling stock. The bridges, the iconic buildings, the steelworks are
all foreign owned or foreign built. We have little or no industry.
The
Europeans continue, (as we "out source" everything to the Far East to
maximise profit) , to have their leaders, Siemans, Philips, Renault,
Fiat, Ferrari, Gucci - what totem do we fly - "Tesco" !! We have sold
everything but the kitchen sink, Bentley, Rolls Royce are but typical of
our race to the bottom.
We listen each day as we pull ourselves to
bits and pieces attempting the impossible to be all things to all men.
Ringing our hands about the past wishing to submerge ourselves in a daft
game of supporting everyone but ourselves. Priding ourselves on our
inclusiveness but in doing so, ignoring the fact that we have lost our
identity.
This tragedy stems from our leadership. The quick return
on an asset sale, reinvested in the nano-second transaction conducted by
a Hedge Fund of a trade based on some artificial differential between
competing stock markets is where we are focused. Why invest in the long term
prospect of a healthy economy with a workforce re-contributing to the
economic health in their own spending power.
We are poorly served
because of the divide that exists between the people who have their
dividends and much more and the massive bulk of the population who are
descending, with the not inconsiderable help from George Osborn into
penury. There is no sense of a one nation. The schooling system takes
care of that, the jobs for the boys, the self perpetuating boardroom
shuffle, a civil service drawn from the ranks of the debating society
with firsts in Greek and Latin ensure that the administration of "UK
Ltd" remains a joke.
There was a
time when on dragging myself from the warm clutches of my bed I would
hurry on down stairs to the kitchen, take out the bacon and eggs from
the fridge, heat up the frying pan (no health fanaticism here) and start
a good old fry up. The aroma of bacon cooking is one of those smells to
die for, at least it is if you are the one to scoff the food. Marie
forever complains about the smell as she opens the windows and doors
even in mid winter to emphasise the point. Fried bread sprinkled with
salt and pepper, sit the egg on the bread and lay on the bacon, what a
creation !!
That is all in the past. The future is bleak, now, I
enter the kitchen and head for the fridge to search for a carrot, yes a
carrot, a carrot for breakfast would you believe it. No more bread, no
more sugary tea,, what is there left to live for. I find myself
wandering into the kitchen and wondering why I am here. The routines are
gone the frying pan sits unloved the sugar bowl empty their place taken
by carrots, apples and a juice,r its just not the same !!
Everyone
talks of this mode of healthy living as if it were a passage out of the
Koran, life depends on it. But who's life and what sort of a life are we
talking about.
Life is a concept and all concepts should be taken
with a dose of salt which nicely brings me back to the joy of fried
bread.
I think I might have a fry up ????
There are
moments when you are forced into seeing the world in a new different way
and often it can come through the chance hearing of a radio program
that brings to the microphone an experience of someone who has grown up
in very different circumstances from ones own.
Our prejudice is built in
the emotional hot house of our environment when growing up and we are
fixed, as in aspic to a set of values that form as we learn from our
parents knee. The issue that was being discussed was whether it was
right to take children away from parents who couldn't cope and don't
care.
The adults who came on air were either from the hang em and
flog em brigade or were people who had grown up in an unloving
environment and had, on having their own children found it hard to offer
their own children love and care. The articulate deeply sincere
explanation of how they were unable to comprehend the needs of their
children, would as time passed, slowly begin to understand their
shortcomings was really moving.
We have our opinions, we base our
thoughts and comments on our own experience and find it incomprehensible
to see how these parents could ignore their children in virtually every
way. Like any disorder, be it physical or mental we find it extremely
difficult to put ourself in their position since it is so far from what
we would call our own "normal"experience but remember "we" have been
blessed with the security that allowed us to project our love onto our
children.
But for the grace of God !!!
I will never live it down, but then again I may never live, full stop ?
Every
so often I get roped into an appearing at the allotment. Today it was
digging up the spuds. Fork in hand I am directed to a patch of ground
where it is rumoured there are potatoes lurking under the soil. I
start to dig but apparently, there is a special way to unearth potatoes
and I am doing it wrong. The fork must not go in at an angle, the depth
is crucial and the shaking and loosening of the soil is a knack I have
still to attain.
Having done it all wrong and speared some fine specimens I was told off in no uncertain terms.
Promising
to "try harder" I continued digging, folk in, lift the soil and shake
out the potatoes, folk in, lift the soil and shake out the potatoes. One
row completed I began to feel dizzy and light headed, stick at it lad,
don't be a woose, fork in, lift the soil you get the drift but by now I
need to sit down.
White faced I sit under the apple tree and
contemplate. Has it all come to this, 10 minutes exercise and I'm
floored and yet yesterday I walked the few miles into town and back no
problem. Marie who battles to walk more than a mile is digging away like
there's no tomorrow,the roles reversed she looks at me from the
intellectual height of, "I can do this why can't you"? I also want to
know why can't I ?
Having arrived home and now in the comfort zone, in front of my lap top. I open the medical dictionary on Dizziness.
Ignoring
the "pint too many" I troll, Low blood Pressure, Hypoglycema and so on.
Do I suffer diabetes is the ticker ok. The more you look the more
symptoms you have, so I closed the book to do what I do best, write my
blog.
If you don't get another, (there are many who live in hope), you will know where I went.
Marie has promised to bury me with what remains of the potatoes !!
Reading a
very interesting book on Robert Mugabe I was fascinated as I often am by
the history. This is especially true when you have lived through part
of that period and have been captivated by the events as they played
out, literally in ones own back yard. The implications for South Africa
were crucial.
Rhodesia was a country which, when one visited it
from South Africa with its Apartheid legacy, you were regaled with what
seemed a contented well run society black and white. Coming from SA
one took for granted the squewed, master servant relationship between
the whites and the blacks, the Colonial legacy was intact and working
well. We saw what seemed a genuinely good relationship between the
races, and contrasted this with the friction in the contrived racially
segregated society further south.
As the years passed we were
surprised to see the unfurling of a bitter war breaking out between the
whites under Ian Smith and the blacks under a range of men who's names
became house hold words and events which were but milestones in the
South African story. Nationalism and independence were breaking out all
over the continent and eventually the pressure on South Africa to
conform was overpowering.
Reading this book writen by a South African
female author, Heidi Holland, I was struck, in hindsight how our view
of the conflict and the reasons for the conflict were manipulated by the
SA Government controlled media.
The good guys, Ian Smith and his
white tribe, fighting for their very existence. The bad guys the
terrorists were Marxist trained thugs who just happened to be black. The
symmetry with what we were brain washed with, in South Africa made the
story plausible. Edgar Tekare, Sithole, Abel Muzorewa, Joshua Nkomo and
of course, in the background, Mugaba himself.
The quiet man, the
man who from an isolated, matriarchal dominated childhood, which made
him self sufficient but also withdrawn, lacking the normal communication
skills with those around him. A clever man who obtained several degrees
but has little empathy with others. An obsessive man who listens and
trusts no one because of a deep rooted inferiority complex.
Painted
into a corner he blames everyone but himself for the trauma brought down
on the country he governs. This narcissistic behaviour has its routes
in childhood but is amplified by the duplicity of those around him,
especially of those in power in the West with their racially based,
stereo typical paternalism that made a mockery of his deep routed belief
in the uniqueness of Africa and of African solutions.
Rather than compromise he became intransigent and brought to its knees a beautiful country !!
Winning the
marathon has always signalled the height of athletic prowess. Whist the
title of fastest man/women on earth the 100 metres has the glamour,
endurance races for me are the true epic of athletic achievement.
The
Comrades marathon,at 56 miles, longer than the normal marathon. It
always captivated the South African audience with its "cock crowing"
start, to the climax of Polly Shortts this race is full of pathos.
Bruce Fordyce was the man, he was god. The only question asked as the race progressed was "where is Fordyce".
He
always ran a cagy race, hovering about tenth as the race progressed
easing himself forward to ninth, eighth, seventh, sixth, could he do it,
surely not. And then came Polly in all her glory as he picked of the
rest of the lead runners one by one. Imagine the the dismay, you had
been up in front for most of the race when this enigma appeared on your
shoulder, merciless he passed and left you in his wake as he surged yet
again for another win. God was in his kingdom and all was well in the
world. For Fordyce the anointed king, the race was won but for so many
the challenge lay ahead, grinding out the miles, an eye on the clock,
the cut offs at Drummond and Cato Ridge where, if out of time you were
forced to retire, or the final ignominy, at the finishing line, the
official turning his back on the approaching runners raises his gun as
the time runs out to expel any further competitors from winning a
medal.The crowd at the finishing line screaming, urging them on, people
throughout the country watching on their television were doing the same,
come on, come on, come on. The sound of the gun was like a shot through
the heart to those still struggling towards the line, some sprinting,
most close to crawling, it was to no avail, their effort in vain, no
medal this year !!
There are many tales of heroism, of camaraderie,
of self discovery throughout the race. People plumb new depths or find a
resilience that surprises them, stories to dine out on friendships that
last a lifetime.
Amongst the good there is always the bad and
downright foolish. The story of the guy who caught a taxi to shave off
40 ks, or the identical twins who shared the running by swapping every
so often, the one resting whilst his brother ran. Their only mistake
was that they wore their watches on a different wrist and were
disqualified.
Some of my fondest memories of South Africa were
watching and trying to embroil my kids in the drama. It was theatre of
the highest, a true life and death struggle carried out amongst a people
who were living a schizophrenic existence but who came together on this
day in a bond of common humanity.
What a
strange people the Yanks are. Fundamentally rich beyond reason they have
this obsession with independence and the fallacious concept that we are
all born equal to compete for life's riches. The cult status given to
firearms apparently ignorant of the danger of guns in general. There
denial of the need in a civilised society to provide basic and
fundamental assistance to all members of society such as medical
insurance and through it medical care for all family members. Their
method of governance set out after the Civil War through a Constitution
and the balance of power, Presidential in design but limited by Congress
for the purse strings to pay, has resulted in the absurd bartering of
power to enable the administration of the country to do its job for the
citizens of that country. Ideology and not common sense raises its ugly
head, each side digging in refusing to give way, grid lock ensues and
everyone is made to look weak and powerless.
I suppose the real
issue is that the country is not a united whole but rather a
conglomeration of separate states each carrying its own veto. Congress
represents those States and the voters who elect their Senators and
Governors do so on narrow local issues. The same voters elect their
President with a different set of criteria in mind. The fear of
powerful governance from the centre, powerful enough to cancel the self
interest of local politics has always been an issue in the USA and we
are often confused by this dichotomy. If State politics is most relevant
to the voters in that State, the offer of pork today is very persuasive
compared to the National issues that might be of value only as a
concept.
The very reason for central, national governance is to bind
all the citizens together for a common aim or standard right across the
country. It also attributes the cost of any scheme to each tax payer
and allows all the citizens to feel they have some ownership of the
scheme. In the States they are split into 52 factions and there is
little collective empathy for people in another part of the country.This
much heralded independence, this belief in standing on ones own feet
has provided the impetus for the tremendous growth to power but it has
left many people behind struggling to live and make ends meet. For every
winner a looser !! Should a society not be more compassionate, more
civilised, more humanitarian.
