Our Elected Leaders are not very Popular

Tuesday 8th May

As well as the elections in Britain last week, there were also elections in Greece and France.  And it seems that the electorate does not like the people and the parties they elected only a few years ago.  In our case that was just two years ago, after about ten successful years Labour came up against a brick wall, and it is easy to say ‘It was the economy- stupid,” but actually most people had been relatively unaffected by the recession of 2008/2009.   The vast majority of people then, as now, were paying record low interest rates on their mortgages, it was only savers who were suffering, and there are a lot fewer of them than the former.  It was the air of incompetence and a lack of confidence in the persona of Gordon Brown that was the real turning point for Labour.  It was always going to be hard to follow Tony Blair, and just as John Major suffered from a lack of dynamism following the divisive but very charismatic figure of Margaret Thatcher, so too did Gordon Brown appear dull and boring in comparison.  David Cameron, and Nick Clegg to a certain degree, appeared attractive and dynamic at first, but one can hardly call their 2010 election results spectacular.  Neither party nor of course Labour seemed to have either the answers or the confidence of the public, so it is no surprise that they should have fallen even further behind in public opinion.  It seems that like the Greeks and the French we do not much like the leaders we have elected only recently.  Perhaps this is because all political parties are rather constrained as to what they can actually do about things, but it is rather more likely that in fact they are not that good.  Sarkozy promised much but in the end delivered little, and as for the Greeks maybe they are a rather special case anyway.  But what of Mr. Cameron; first indications are that they are simply going to batter on regardless and hope that either an economic miracle rescues them or that people will simply not trust Labour with the country’s finances in future.  A bit of a poor message that “Look, we may not be very good, but at least we aren’t as bad as Labour were.  We underestimated the task and the medicine we applied may not have worked so far, but we have every belief that it will eventually.”   The worst possible result will be that we have more or less a re-run of last time with no party winning well enough to govern on their own.  Would the LibDems even dare to go into coalition with Labour if they were the largest party next time?  Nothing would surprise me.

Every Human Life adds to the Total of Humanity

Monday 7th May

One always thinks of oneself as somehow more important than most others, or at least more valid.  Of course one is not Nelson Mandela or Obama, or will even achieve the minor fame of a bestseller author or a well-known face on the television, but in my case at least I have written my book, which will live on after I have gone, at least for a while until the paper deteriorates and it becomes just one more boring artifact from the past.  But here again I am afraid we deceive ourselves, in the grand scheme of things who remembers Alexander the Great, or Charlemagne, or even Bismark and Palmerston; just names in history books I am afraid.  And even my own memories of Harold Wilson or Margaret Thatcher will mean nothing to future generations, they too will simply be names in some History syllabus for those interested in such mundane matters.  And if these famous people count for nothing then what of ordinary folk such as I, or even the no-hopers, the couch potatoes, the losers in life, or those who die in childhood, the starving millions in Africa – what of their lives, were they too for nothing?

Well no, here I beg to offer a different synopsis.  This says that every human life adds to the sum total of humanity, we are all of equal importance.  And I would go further and say that without each and every one of us humanity would be diminished.  Even the Stalins and Chairman Maos, even the Fred Wests and child rapists and the ugly and obnoxious – they all add to humanity.  And that is why it is important for each and every one of us to do the best we can and do as little harm as possible, so that the sum total of humanity is improved by our presence and not impoverished by it.

Three songs that just won’t go away

Sunday 6th May

Turn on your radio, not to radio 1, but maybe Capital or Heart or Magic and before long you will probably hear one of these three songs.  The first one is Brown-eyed Girl by Van Morrison.  A catchy tune, but I wouldn’t have said it was the best song ever written, or even the best that Van Morrison has written either.  My favourite of his is Madame George, but there you go.  There is something infectious though about Brown-eyed girl, especially the chorus, with its Sha-la-la-la-la, di-la-di-da, in case you forget the words.  This is also one of those songs which have been covered by all and sundry, including a charming version by The Senators, an East London mid-eighties duo, who wrote great little songs but recorded this for I think their eponymous debut.

Another song which just won’t go away is Stuck in the Middle with You, by Stealers Wheel featuring the late departed Gerry Rafferty.  It came off their first album which was a classic and was filled with any number of hit singles which could have been chosen instead of this one.   The band recorded one other album and then spilt up with Gerry going on to record the almost as classic Baker Street.  The sentiment of the song which is quite downbeat belies the upbeat tempo and happy sound of the record, which may be a clue to its longevity, there isn’t much else quite like it.

The other song I keep bumping into is Make me Smile (come up and see me) by Steve Harley and Cockney Rebel.  I was bowled over by Cockney rebel when they first burst onto the scene, around the same time as Bowie and T Rex were happening, and loved their first album with Sebastian, Death Trip and What Ruthy Said.  Their second was a bit heavier and rockier but still great.  After that the band broke up, or Steve sacked them all (depends which story you believe).  Steve quickly formed a new band and recorded his third ‘The best years of our lives’, and this was on it.  In some ways it is the weakest song on the album, and certainly not one of my favourites, but it is so popular and you hear it all the time that whenever it comes on it does makes you smile.

And I wonder just why it is that these three, and there are probably a few more like them, are perennial radio favourites peppering the airwaves with their familiar and joyful sounds.  Who knows what it is about certain songs that mean they just keep getting played year after year, and just will not go away.  Not that I particularly want them to, which is probably the answer to the question.

Election results and reactions

Saturday 5th May

Of course we do expect our politicians to always paint themselves in the best light possible, but I always think that one of the most amusing aspects of election nights is listening to the politicians trying desperately to explain that actually it wasn’t that bad.  Thursday night was typical; not only were the Tories saying that it was simply mid-term disillusionment with the Government, and had nothing to do with their policies, but also declaring that unless Labour won at least one thousand councilors from them it was a bad result for Labour.  As I write this the votes are still being counted but it does look like a very good result for Labour winning back cities like Birmingham and Norwich, and look on course to win over 700 new councilors.  By raising the bar of achievement for another party it is as if you are saying – yes, you won, but really given how hopeless we are, you should have done much better.   Labour almost attempted this after the 2010 General Election, but hardly had the heart after their own disastrous result.

The saddest faces of the night (apart from Ken in London, which I suspect he will lose despite a good vote for Labour in the London Assembly) were reserved for the LibDems.  They really had no answer for why they did so badly, except that they couldn’t accept the bleeding obvious.  The public expected the Tories to be nasty, even if some of them still voted for them, but the LibDems have always seemed so reasonable and, well, honest – compared to the other two.  Then at the first chance they jump into bed with their idealogical enemy and ditch almost everything they ever stood for.  They are rightly perceived as letting the Tories get away with right wing policies when only a third of the country voted for that.  Watching Danny Alexander twist and turn, saying that the public understood that hard choices had to be made, and somehow that was why they voted against the Libdems.  It was incredible, oh, and highly enjoyable too.

Those Summer Winter blues

Thursday 4th May

Is it the chilly weather or perhaps the realization that if this is Summer it doesn’t feel any different from Winter, but I cannot quite shake off these Summer Winter blues.   And everywhere I look; glum faces.  Maybe I need a holiday.  I know, I have only just returned from the Dordogne, but we hardly saw the sun on that trip at all.  Maybe I need a real exotic holiday in some tropical paradise, with a white sun-drenched beach, palm trees leaning out over the sea, on a lounger with a straw parasol and a tall cool glass of pina-colada or a mint julep on a small table beside me, a collection of glossy magazines and the latest bestseller grabbed in haste at the airport.

But I am afraid that that has never been me at all.  Firstly although I do love the warmth of the sun, being fair-skinned I do not tan well and consequently not only smother myself in the highest factor sun-screen I can find, but positively avoid sitting in the direct sunlight.   No, what I want is that gorgeous warm-but-not-too-hot English summer weather that I seem to remember from my childhood, those languid days laying on a blanket on the freshly mown lawn half in and half out of the shade of a large plane tree, reading Jane Eyre and with a glass of Corona Cherryade and a few Rich Tea biscuits for refreshment.  A simple enough pleasure one would have thought, but as I look out on another dreary overcast rain-threatened day it seems as far away as those memories.

The Moo-Cows of London

Wednesday 23rd May

You see them everywhere, and though some are undoubtedly male I still call them moo-cows.  I do not know, but strongly suspect that it is the case, if they inhabit other cities, but London is full of them, they are simply everywhere.  They wander around aimlessly chewing the cud, looking up from their grazing occasionally at all the busy people rushing around, as if these scurrying creatures were in fact from another planet altogether.  Despite it being the extended rush hour which London seems to need they seem not to be bothered by financial or in fact any other considerations at all.  You see them sitting in Starbucks staring into the middle distance, a hand occasionally mechanically raising the green-logoed cardboard cup to their lips, their gaze never faltering.  Or they may be spotted vaguely browsing their i-phones, an index finger occasionally brushing the screen as images flicker by; one wonders if they recognize any, as they never show any emotion on their moo-cow faces.   What sort of lives do they lead, these strange sedentary beasts who never hurry, but amble along, occasionally glancing at a Metro, but you suspect that they scorn any real news and content themselves with the celebrity fodder on offer.  And the female moo-cow faces are blank and all made up to look exactly the same, as if any sign of individuality would mark them out as being possibly interesting.  You never get a reaction from a moo-cow, or even a smile.  They are impassive and will not let slip the mask they have so carefully created.  Even when moo-cows meet each other, there is barely a whisper of recognition; after all who talks to a moo-cow.

But scorn them not, for they may in fact be the future of the human race – a new sub species that will eventually dominate and destroy all of us thinking busy people.  Maybe they are just watching and waiting, planning our eventual overthrow.  So beware – the day of the moo-cow may soon be upon us.

A word or two about Rupert

Thursday 3rd May

And I don’t mean Rupert Bear, a real childhood friend; unbeknown to me at the time a different Rupert was weaving his insidious web and building on the legacy he inherited from his father along with a ruthlessness and determination almost unparalleled in the business world.  So, who really is this Rupert, is he truly the malignant meddler in politics, the grand puppet master and decider of elections or has he merely given us, the public exactly what we wanted, page 3 girls and five hundred channels of dross on the TV.  The truth as always may lay somewhere in-between.  Like those great newspaper magnates who went before him, Beaverbrook and Northcliffe, he undoubtedly knew the power of the popular press, and like Robert Maxwell he courted political leaders and tried to push his own political agenda to the fore.  However it was when he discovered such a like-minded individual as Margaret Thatcher that things turned really ugly; there is no doubting that they made an unholy pact, she would let him take over the Times and expand his empire without restraint and he would crush the print unions.  And both got what they wanted.  But then things get a bit murkier, Murdoch decided that Blair would be a better bet than John Major, and then that Cameron and Osborne would suit him better than Gordon Brown.  How much was ever really discussed or promised we will probably never know, it was much more a case of politicians being only too aware of the importance of keeping Rupert on-side, as Neil Kinnock discovered to his cost.  But in his defence it has always been so, the political influence of the Mail and the Express were always insidious and undemocratic.  It was in the marrying of his business and his political machinations that we reached the lowest point of all.  In fact the phone-hacking scandal in itself wasn’t that awful; journalists have used underhand and illegal methods for years – it was just that nobody had the balls to go after them.  So, what do we think of Rupert now, his reputation has certainly been tarnished, but he will undoubtedly survive, and make more and more money until the day he dies, which may not be that far off.  And for a while there will be more regulation of the press, and politicians will be more careful about who they are seen with, and who they e-mail.  But sooner or later another Rupert will emerge, maybe in Cyberspace, maybe in Telecoms, who knows, except that it will happen.  As Lincoln said ‘The price of freedom is eternal vigilance.’  We just have to have the balls to stop the next Rupert before it gets to this sorry state.

The Scots have a word for this weather

Wednesday 2nd May

First an apology for three days in a row about the rain but the Scots have a word for this weather, I have several myself – you might not be surprised to hear, but they call it dreek.  That is one of those wonderful words that sound exactly as they mean; onomatopoeia is the term for such words, like biff and clunk.  And for this type of persistent and wet and windy weather the perfect term is dreek.  Apparently they have a lot of dreek up in Scotland, another reason not to move there, though it is lovely for a visit, especially if the sun is shining.   Lerwick in the Shetlands has the unusual celebrity of being the wettest place in the United Kingdom; apparently it is dreek there most of the time.  I know that one reason for human beings apparent rise to the top of the animal kingdom is down to our wonderful adaptability; however how anyone could ever have adapted to live in a place of almost permanent dreek is beyond me.  Is it just me, or does this weather actually depress others too?  I find I am really laid low by the awful persistent rain, it is absolutely not conducive to my soul, or any other part of my being.  On Monday we had a brief respite, and the sun was warm and welcoming if only for a few hours, but yesterday it was back to torrential downpour again.  I would love to be able to just hunker down and hibernate, but I cannot, this is May for goodness sake, we should be out in the gardens and the parks celebrating the advent of Summer and hibernation is long past us; even the squirrels are awake and, wet and bedraggled as they might be, they are scampering around in search of windblown food, even in this awful dreek.

Gutters full of petals

Tuesday 1st May

And after the downpours a glimpse of sunshine breaking through the clouds has brought a most welcome touch of warmth to all our hearts.  And as I stride out hopeful that May will bring forth the flowers that March winds and April showers have prepared us for I notice that one result of the recent horrendous rain is that we now have gutters full of petals.  The wind that accompanied the wet has stripped most of the tree blossom and blown it down onto the paths and roads, the rain in its turn swept them into the gutter, where huge puddles have gently evaporated with the early morning sunshine leaving blankets of white and pink petals all over the gutters.  What a lovely sight and so temporary too, before we know it this lovely sight will be gone, the petals having now served their purpose, the trees hopefully now all pollinated, they can wither and die quickly turning to a brown slush that will be swept away when the rain, never far away returns.  Enjoy the sight while you can, for like snowflakes out of season they will soon evaporate.  And remember that though we may not be rich and famous; we may spend most of our lives in the gutter, but even here occasionally it is filled with petals.

Will it ever stop raining?

Monday 30th April

I know that one shouldn’t really complain about the weather, after all one should be able to take the rough with the smooth, but don’t you think it has been wet for a tad too long already.  And I am getting just a bit fed up with it.  It is scant compensation to know that the winter was particularly dry, as at the time it never really felt that great.  And the worst of all is when wretched meteorologists explain that because of the time of year and the fact that the ground is so dry the current deluge is doing nothing to replenish depleted aquifers and that the drought is actually getting worse.  I have no idea whether they are talking sense or out of another part of their anatomy altogether, all I know is I am fed up of getting wet every time I venture out.  And not just went, but drenched.  And as bad as the rain itself is the wind, which cuts through your clothing and makes any attempt at using an umbrella impossible.  I cannot quite remember being this cold in April before, and this is a cloying damp cold that goes right through you and you practically have to get changed into warm dry clothes when you get home or risk pneumonia.  It has been raining here in London practically non-stop for three days so far, and no sign of any break in this frankly awful weather.  No wonder the Government is doing so badly; we need a little sunshine if only to stop people complaining about pasty tax, granny tax, the price of petrol and maybe even the weather is the fault of the Tories too.  (It never rained this badly under Tony Blair I’m sure.)

So come on God, or whoever it is controlling the weather, shift this block of Low Pressure out into the North Sea and give us all a break.