…David Corbyn took on and felled Goliath May.
On 14 June, George Monbiot wrote an article in The Guardian: ‘The biggest losers? Not the Tories but the media who missed the story’.
Yes, if you live, like the media, in a hall of mirrors, you will only reflect not detect. Speaking with like minded people will yield no new insights.
The 2017 election was truly amazing. Labour had been in internal chaos merely months ago. The party was so weak that even the there-will-be-no-election Theresa May decided to call one to “strengthen her hand” in the upcoming Brexit talks. Few people had seen a greater Conservative lead in the polls. They stood on 44% on 17 April 2017; Labour on 24%. The outcome a forgone conclusion predicted the media.
But in the intervening seven weeks, the party which had been in chaos reared up like a Kraken from the deep and shocked everyone. The legendary creature that resembled a giant squid destroyed ships. Well, it destroyed her ladyship all right. Continue reading “What the Media Missed”
MacDonald (the eventual Labour Prime Minister) with his heady Utopian internationalism was the perfect voice for the Labour party. For MacDonald read Corbyn,
Is this 2017 or 1923? The parallels are eerily similar. Theresa May should have been a student of history and not geography, or perhaps she should have got a first at Oxford. Another second on her CV doesn’t look good.
But why 1923? Continue reading “Election Parallels Previous Conservative Error”
No one knows at twenty, thirty or forty what their final days will be like.
In 2009, George Osborne delivered those words to the Conservative Party Conference as he announced a pay freeze for public-sector workers (which is still in force seven years later) as well as savage cuts to the welfare state. And we laugh at that now, but the tragedy is it still affects millions today.
Now we have “Strong and stable government”. The Tories, those masters of spin who could persuade turkeys to vote for Christmas, are deceiving us again – you can fool some of the people all of the time is their mantra. They have made a dramatic wealth grab from the weakest and sickest who need social care. Their only crime is to be ill or worse suffer some chronic condition such as multiple sclerosis, Parkinson’s disease or dementia… the list could go on but I am no doctor.
Continue reading ““We Are All in This Together””
In Scotland, Sally Cogley won a first seat for the Rubbish Party
Five hundred years ago, everything was seen through the lens of religion; the church was all powerful and everywhere. But all power corrupts, and something to ignite the powder keg of dissent over the demands of the church in a rapidly changing Europe was bound to come from somewhere and through some single action.
A Catholic monk nailed his ninety-five demands, or theses, to the door of the Schlosskirche in Wittenberg. Martin Luther’s action on the 31 October 1517 is now credited with the tumultuous changes, not all good, which constituted the Reformation and the significant curtailment of the power of the Catholic Church.
Today, the developed world finds itself beset by challenges, not over the adherence to the Latin language in church, but of the demands for continuous economic growth.
Continue reading “Reformation or Re-formation?”
Pointing his crooked finger at the old sandstone building..
I’ll always remember that day in ’66 when I walked alongside Granddad past Enrico’s flashy new restaurant on Lexington Avenue. Pointing his crooked finger at the old sandstone building that looked like a former bank – large sandstone blocks and high windows capped by semi-circular tops, he said, ‘That was the National Bank, years ago.’
At that moment a yellow cab drew to a screeching halt and a smartly dressed lady in a furry hat carrying at least three of Bloomingdale’s new designer bags pushed past us and lowered her head as she opened the back door of the taxi without any excuse or anything. ‘Bloody rude,’ I remember Granddad said.
‘It was different then, years ago,’ Granddad continued, ‘none of your flashy colours, flared trousers or fur hats in October. It was all grey and caps or bowler hats for men and cloche hats for women. And trams.’ Continue reading “Embarrassing”
Keith West was an unstoppable muscular battleship, inches taller and wider than any boy.
A handwritten letter dropped through the letterbox and I knew it would be interesting. Bills, circulars and spurious junk mail are always typed. Eagerly, I tore open the white envelope and, as I read, I was transported back, back, back to my childhood…
Hillbury Road had twenty one elegant Edwardian houses – bay windows on either side of the half-glassed front door, a low iron balcony partway across the first floor, and second floor windows below a fine gable – facing Tooting Bec Common. Continue reading “Keith & Thelma”
…Peter wears sturdy boots with his trousers sensibly tucked into long woollen socks, Kath sports a racy Panama hat with a black band, and I have a rose pullover.
Along Amroth’s shingle beach, formerly occupied by Victorian houses but long since washed away, we looked out over the flat sand that reached around the frozen lava flows to Wiseman’s Bridge a mile or so away.
Behind us stands the New Inn, a farmhouse with a four hundred year history and now a smart pub, modern and gleaming white in the sunshine. Next to us is the marker post marking the start of the Pembrokeshire Coastal Path, opened in 1970 by the friendly Welsh broadcaster and Oxford history graduate, Wynford Vaughan Thomas. It tells us Poppit Sands are 180 miles away.
Fine weather, low tide, and a lively brown dog encourage us to walk this first stage of the coastal path to Tenby, 7½ miles away. Continue reading “Three Women, Two Men and Ruby the Dog.”