“when the fall is all there is ….”

Having watched ‘Inside the Commons’ – a fly one the wall series about the workings of Parliament – I am not quite sure if I am utterly amazed or utterly disgusted with the political process in the United Kingdom.  I feel like I am watching a befuddled relative who is unable to comprehend that world has moved on, a world that they cannot make sense of or cope with.

To the background of this amazing series, amazing I feel almost stunned into incredulity, is the day to day shenanigans of our elected Members of Parliament playing their Private School games that leave us wondering what, if any, grasp of reality these people have.  The latest of these is the ‘sting’ on two prominent MPs in a ‘cash for questions (or at least influence) conducted by Channel Four and the Telegraph.

The Labour ‘sting’ Jack Straw, Labour MP and former Home Secretary, promptly suspended himself from the Labour Party and referred himself to the Parliamentary Standards Committee, the second was Malcolm Rifkind, former Secretary of State for Scotland. As Geoffrey in The Lion in Winter when Henry II comes to execute them ” When the fall is all there is, it matters.[how you fall]”. Mr Rifkind didn’t fall all that well, in fact he clung on like so many other MPs, embarrassingly to his job.

Whilst it is a bit of a chicken and egg question I think his first mistake was not resigning on the spot, or at least referring himself to the Standards Committee, arguably if he had done this the Tory Party would have been saved the embarrassing, but telling quote:

“If you’re trying to attract people of a business or professional background to serve in the House of Commons, and they’re not ministers, it is quite unrealistic to believe they will go through their parliamentary career being able to accept a salary of £60,000”

I could live on £60k, plus the expenses, plus the £12k rent allowance.  In fact 90% of the British public can live on a lot less, the average wage being around £30k with a lot of people earning a lot less. In fact a lot of MPs can survive on a lot less without having to have a second job.

MPs netted around £4 Million in their second job, the most prominent Labour MP netting £1.34 million, but all of this went charity so I would not really call it a job to be honest.  In a debate, a rather quick political ploy to embarrass the Government, Sir Peter Tapsell when talking about the proposed ban on second jobs said this.

“If people in this house are not allowed a second job that membership of it will soon be largely confined to the inheritors of substantial fortunes, or to rich spouses or to obsessive crackpots, or to those who are unemployable anywhere else”

Well that about describes much of the Conservative Party.

One of the questions that we need to ask is how do MPs, on £60k +, have time to do a second job?  Isn’t being an MP a job in itself, are they saying that they are not fully employed, and if that is the case then why are we paying them a full time wage.  If they are fully employed then surely one of the jobs is going to suffer, and I am kind of thinking that the job that will suffer will be MP job because the Tax Payer is seen as an easy touch.

The “Inside the Commons” and the second job debate proves to me that this democracy is not working, this democracy is failing along with the Palace of Westminster.  Yes we need to ask serious questions about our society, but we also have to ask serous questions about the way our society is run.

What have they done with the money?

I remember clearly, it must be all of 30 years ago, Barbara Castle speaking at a Labour Party Rally in Sheffield.  One for rhetoric she totally outshone Neil Kinnock for passion and commitment, her rallying cry was “never argue with a Tory about policy, ask them what they have done with the money” – cue rapturous applause.

The same question pervades politics today, the expense scandals, the freebies, the jaunts, the weddings and now election promises.  We need to ask what have they done with the money and what will they do with it – if their figures are reasonable assumptions.

We cling to the premise that Parliament serves the people, though in reality we are slave to it, we have entered into a Faustian deal with out elected officials that they conduct any social or monetary experiment they desire, regardless of the cost to ourselves, for the pretence of democracy. We have in effect an elected Dictatorship, and it kinda of works.  The fundamental lie about our system is that the Governments ‘gives away’ money, it doesn’t,  The Government does not have any money, and when they buy a new Aircraft Carrier or build an new Hospital, then they are spending my money, when they reduce taxes they are telling me, effectively, we are going to take less from you this year – and make it sound like they are giving me something more, rather than taking less.

The debate about the debates in the run up to the General Election are interesting because a lot revolves around whether the political parties have their sums right, and some political parties haven’t even costed their proposals – if elected they will be let lose with national Credit Card.

I do not understand why any Party will not have their proposals costed. If I am to elect a Government then I should be convinced that they are going to spend my money on the things that I want them spent on.  It should be the law that every political party with spending plans should have them costed first, and costed against the same base model.  It is called accountability.

When they are spending money, and making promises, remember that you are paying.

Compassion beyond Reason

It has said that Christians should behave in such a fashion that the only explanation for their bizarre behaviour is that God actually exists. A radical thought in these days.

It is a cold day in Brussels, the light is shining though the window of my Hotel room in the EU District of Brussels, a new day and a new start in the sterile EU District of Brussels.

I turn my phone and flick through the tweets and comments, the squabbles and the jealousies written on our media rich lives. I am reminded of what I was doing on this day over the past five years; looking through the Facebook comments, Twitter feed, the half remembered events, and cryptic statuses whose meanings elude me now, and then I come across the name Edith Cavell.

Her story, her almost martyrdom, has been learned over a period of years.  It started in London and the words ‘Patriotism is not enough’ on her stature near St Martins in the Field, probably overlooked by most.  An Anglican Nurse who was instrumental in founding the Belgium healthcare system, she was in Brussels during World War One, declining to leave because she was still needed to heal the wounds of the war.  Refusing to discriminate between the German wounded and the Allied wounded she treated both – a radical notion even now – and arrested for aiding the escape of Allied Soldiers. She was tried and executed.

It is 12 October 2014 and I decide I should visit one of the two memorials in Brussels to her, it is 99 years since she was killed.

I stood in front of one the monuments to her, a simple and elegant affair – situated next to a Health Clinic that bears her name in the ‘Churchill’ district of Brussels (perhaps the Health Clinic is her true memorial).  It is a cold, crisp day.  The streets are quite, empty apart from the occasional Jogger passing by, carpeted in a raggy covering of brown leaves. The air is clean and life gently goes on amongst wide streets of Brussels, though people walk there is a stillness, a tranquillity today.  There is little traffic to disturb my thoughts as I look on and think of that day 99 years ago.

I look and imbibe the calmness of the day. I think what it must have been like on that day, what was happening that day, the stillness of the street envelopes, its cold autumnal cover gathers around me, what was it like on that day, was it like this?  I can hear the gunshot from the Firing Squad echo through the streets, breaking the silence, shattering the grace that took her from a quite, parochial existence to facing a German Firing Squad. The shot brutally rips into the silence of an autumn morning in Brussels through almost a century of time to today, to now. The sound ricochets along the street in my mind, as the bullet leaves the Rifle, it echoes along streets off the walls of time.

The echoes of her legacy and her example to us today as sharp as that shot.  Her words. Her deeds.

What is her example to me?  For one it is striving not to hate anyone.  Saying not hating anyone in today’s world is almost impossible, but then again saying as await execution most be even more difficult. We, I, need to connect with my humanity that sees people as people and not as nationalities or political supporters, and a humanity that sees people as people who hate me. I have been given this example, I have seen what love is, what it does, I have to have that love for others.

My love must be unconditional, or else it is not love.

The words of the Pastor who publicly vowed to take action if he found out one of his Sons was gay, was to love him, unconditionally leak into my mind, love, such an old fashioned word. He said:

I don’t mean some token, distant, tolerant love that stays at a safe arm’s length. It will be an extravagant, open hearted, unapologetic, lavish, embarrassing-them-in-the-school cafeteria, kind of love

I look at the Memorial, recount the story, and I do not see great Armies facing each other, terrible battles betweens Empires, or the hatred of countries, I see a woman making a difference, making an awful situation a little better, I see hope in the darkness. I see humanity in physical form. I see a woman loving her fellow men, regardless, in spite of the differences and political wrangling of Empire.

The sentence and execution of Edith Cavell was lawful and just, and yet we see it as a crime, and crime it was.  Justice has to be served but also with justice, and justice is relative, there has to be mercy.  Whilst sometimes I think ‘they deserved it’ I now have to question that conclusion, yes they deserve it, but is justice, can I exercise mercy in my judgement. I stand in front of the firing squad of her sacrifice, it is not Edith who faced the judgement, it was the Court that had to be judged. We are so easy to judge, so quick to justify, just as the Court did in 1915.

Edith Louisa Cavell was a Christian woman whose behaviour can only be explained by the fact that God exists. I am sure she thought she was nothing special and probably would have felt embarrassed by the State Funeral she was accorded.

Let her epitaph be her own words:

“I am thankful to have had these 10 weeks of quiet to get ready. Now I have had them and have been kindly treated here. I expected my sentence and I believe it was just. Standing as I do in view of God and Eternity, I realise that patriotism is not enough, I must have no hatred or bitterness towards anyone”.

God help me to have that kind of love.

Posting with confidence

Jo is leaving.

Jo, a wonderful woman from work is leaving. She is stunning to look at, well not exactly stunning, but she possesses that rare quality in people, she is ‘self possessed’. She owns herself and she is confident with herself, her body, her abilities –importantly she avoids arrogance through that confidence.  She knows her team, she knows her abilities, she is neither better than they are or less able than they are she just is.

It helps that she is ‘easy on the eye’ she has a sexy 1940’s dress style with ‘Goth’ overtones. She looks good, but she does not look down on anyone, she sees them as people, she sees where she can help and she does.

Though self-possessed she is aware of other people, their situations, their holidays , their family and their pressure points and she manages accordingly, not trying to perfect them, but trying to help them perfect themselves.

She is an amazing woman.

Today I woke up and put something on Facebook along the lines that “I am really fortunate, I have travelled to amazing places and I have friends but without my partner these things are distractions.” Then came the comment “where is the sick bucket”.

After my initial anger that we can easily put people down on Facebook, criticise and moan, I came to realise that we are victims of our own insecurities, that without being able to love ourselves and accept ourselves as we are – without weaknesses and contradictions – we are unable to love others.  We are unable to love others because we fear that we are inadequate, for so many that inadequacy is masked by arrogance, by the need to belittle, to ‘look better’ than others.

We are ourselves, and even though I am resisting the urge to rush to the CD rack and put on Gloria Gaynor 80’s hit ‘I Am What I Am’ – at some level I am my own special creation. I do battle with my insecurities, we all do if we are really honest, but I am feeling special, no not special, feeling OK about myself.

It is a rare ability to make someone feel that they are OK, and we all have to work at it, but we all need that assurance that we are ‘OK’, that we can ‘strip off’ and not unconsciously hide our ‘flabby bits’ that the ‘flabby bits’ are as much as who we are as is our smile.

Jo is leaving, and she has taught me a lesson, she has taught me not by instruction but by observation, and I am little better.

Richard Dawkins scares me

There are few things that annoy me more; well actually it makes my blood boil, then intolerance.

To be fair there are a few things I cannot tolerate, but these tend to be things like cruelty or nastiness in general, but seeing a friends post this morning really pressed too many buttons.  One was equating religion with racism and the other inferring that the Bible should be classified as ‘hate speech’.

The latter with the logo “If homosexuals had a book that said Christians should be stoned to death … How long before you called it ‘Hate speech’? was particularly amusing because as far as I recollect Jesus never said anyone should be stoned to death, not even the woman caught in the act of adultery (btw what happened to the man?).  Of course that points to the problem of ‘Militant Humanism’ in that it’s factual base against Christianity is shaky to say the least and if scratch the surface of the quote you can topple the argument fairly quickly.  To be fair if I was making comments against Formula One racing then I would be on dodgy ground and my comments would be as equally as facile.

The second was more fundamentally wrong “Religion will eventually become as offensive and unacceptable has racism” as it was directed people of faith and smacked of intolerance, and that is what fundamentally scares me about Richard Dawkins and the simplistic nature of his adherents. According to some of the ‘info pics’ I am anti-science, anti-women, worst than Nazis, and naive.  I admit I am probably a bit naive, even at 50+ – but so what?

What is wrong is the licence given by “Militant Humanism” to be as intolerant as they accuse as everyone, the irony is painful and it is left to people of faith to start the dialogue, to practice the ‘grace’ that they want.

To me, and I know this is a nightmare scenario, is that this intolerance grows into hatred, to justify an ever increasing militancy, that crystallises into more direct action. The nightmare scenario is Churches being burned, Muslims attacked, and Jews persecuted. Dawkins zeal is almost missionary, and his disciples not shy of a fight, and I left wondering why we need to fight, why can’t all accept each the way we are?

Today In Rummelsberg

April 03 2014 I was told I had to find somewhere else to live, I am 50 so it’s nothing that bad really – just a shock.  The timing was pretty crap as well, from my point of view, and also being ‘Northern’ didn’t help. Given two months I decided I would live as soon as possible – no point sticking around where you are not wanted is there?

The timing was crap as it was the busiest month for me ever, a gig in Birmingham, entertaining my German Aunt, and three trips to Berlin (extravagant I know, but I don’t organise the tour dates) on top of finding somewhere to live, packing, sorting along with finding new furniture, this has been one hell of a month, and it has been exactly one month, I never thought you could fit so much into one month.

Most of the boxes are packed, I have some residual things to panic about later this week, but today I am resting, I am resting and taking stock, I am resting and being ‘creative’ in my own way.  Perhaps I should be busier and enjoying the sunshine but I am not.   I woke this morning being reflective.

I reflected on a man that rushed into me at Berlin Zoo Station two weeks back, I have tears in my thinking about him (I am still human, thank God!).  Almost naked, dressed literally in rags but almost naked, almost feral running out of the main station as if being chased by his demons, terrified and wild. I felt helpless, unable to offer any words that he might have understood, and later he was unwilling to take money, as he cowered by the Luggage Lockers.

I want to know about him, I want to know his name, where he came from, what his family is, was, like, where is family is, how did he get like this and how did people allow this happen.  I want to know where he sleeps, and where he spends his days, I want to know so much about him and I ask myself why?  I question my curiosity, but I think it is more than being curious it is about this nameless man is a person, a person with a story, and person with meaning and worth. His story needs to be recognised and confirmed, more than that I recognised this person, it was me.  It was me amidst all that I have, still in need, still in need of love, affection, food and water.  I am no different.

It hurts me, hurts me that there are nameless people we walk by, people we subconsciously erase because they ‘don’t matter’.

My mind was, and still is, dancing around the encounter even as I boarded the Flight home and I prepared for the next back to Berlin a few days later my mind was still there.

A society has to be judged on how it treats it’s weakest, I think that was Ghandi talking, and whilst that quote is true it invokes the escape for my conscience – the quote has to move further, it as move from the general to the specific, the quote needs to ‘a person should be judged on how it treats the weakest’ I am remembering that man.

My Flat will be furnished with everything second hand, I was tempted by the deals to be had, interest free and pay later – I saw a lovely Sofa for £800 – but there are just things, they make me no better than anyone else, they perform no auxiliary function other than to look a little better.

I don’t begrudge people their comfort, it is just that this is my path, it is path I can start walking again.

The nameless man in Berlin Zoo Station is my focus, he is the my grounding, and whilst the encounter is still disturbing it has awakened the good person I used to be, the compassionate and caring.  The move is good for me, it will be a new start, a new beginning.

 

“Are we still letting Mongols have sex with each other?”

First of all, for the record, the Mayor of Swindon – Nick Martin – has made an apology (no matter how much it was a form of words) and has at last resigned.

You would think that is the end of the story, that someone made a mistake and took responsibility, after all he is a Conservative Councillor and if one of their mantra’s was about personal responsibility, but I think there is something far more disgusting than the actual quote, something we need to be concerned about.

First of all is that someone can think the phrase at all, it is not about the term ‘Mongol’ it is about the condescension towards people with disability, it is about castigating anyone who does fit the stereotype of what is ‘normal’. One thing that came to my mind when I heard to quote was ‘yes they do, and so do gay, lesbian, black and Jewish people – and what is so special about any group that they should not be allowed sexual intercourse.  I am sure that even Tories have sex!  I hate labels, I hate labels because they are mainly to discriminate, they are there to alienate.  Having said that I could have forgiven him for using the label.

I could have forgiven him for the use for the label, but the inherent disbelief that they ‘letting Mongols have sex with each’ as if they should be a law against it.

Even at this point there is an escape route – I made a terrible mistake, I will apologise and resign because I hold Public Office and represent the people of Swindon in all its diversity – and more than anything else Politicians should be an example to follow and no an embarrassment. In the week that we had Maria Miller and the expenses scandal I cannot help but think our leaders are totally shameless and do represent the people they ‘serve’ but are merely in it to further their own dogma and needs.

Way back in 2010 Gordon Brown was caught on microphone calling Gillian Duffy a bigot, I don’t why but it sounds like the son of a Preacher had good reason, but an apology was made, no such apology in these times under the Tories. ”

Of course Maria and Nick but gave an apology, they both gave an apology that a form of words and devoid of meaning, and both were forced to apology.  There is one code of conduct for normal folk and another for the Politicians.

I am a firm believer that Management  set the tone for the organisation, so too should the Government, or Parliament, set the tone for the nation. To quote Nadine Dorries on the Bullingdon Boys that are running the United Kingdom:

“Unfortunately, I think that not only are Cameron and Osborne two posh boys who don’t know the price of milk, but they are two arrogant posh boys who show no remorse, no contrition, and no passion to want to understand the lives of others – and that is their real crime.”

Whilst Nick Martin has resigned, he waited until he was forced to resign, he actually waited until the Standards Committee said what he said demanded an apology, where was his moral compass that said that he had offended people?  But these are Tories, these are Tories that have introduced Bedroom Tax, the Tories that have all but privatised the NHS, the Tories that have made being ill, unemployed more or less a crime.

What Nick Martin said was wrong, that he took so long to apologise and resign was even worse.

Whatever happened to ‘class acts’?

“I am leaving, I am leaving, yet the fighter still remains”

I am not sure what to do, so I am writing a blog.

It may be a bad blog, but it is my blog, and not only is it something I have created it is also a method I can use to find out what I am thinking, therefore it is therapeutic and self-indulgent – and I don’t apologise.

It is Monday 07 April and it is has been four days since the Landlord dropped the bombshell that he wanted me to leave, I have been here in Woodbourne for five year s and as much as I despise the place, well the slug infestation, it has been a cheap bolt hole.  That is all it has been really, a bolthole, somewhere to sleep, it has not been a home.

A home is where you can go, close the doors and shut the world out.  Home is in Kidderminster where my partner is, not in Swindon, Swindon is where I work. A home is where you feel relaxed; a home is where ‘fireside manners’ begin

I have stopped living here, I have come to exist – and I have only just realised this.

I want to live again, I want stop watching the door wondering if the landlord is coming, I want stop asking permission to invite my partner down – it is a good thing that has happened, I keep telling myself.  As the days pass I find myself become detached from this place – it is a house I no longer belong to, and it no longer belongs to me.

Within 24 hours of hearing the news, well 12 hours to be honest, I had viewed a house a few streets from here.  It is quite nice but very much at the edge of my price range, but looking at the other properties I have seen today one was a basement, gloomy and stuffy, the bath suite was green and I wondered what it was hiding. The Living Room was square, it had a television, a chair and a Washing Machine, and I couldn’t imagine a plant let alone a person thriving there.

The killer was the Cooker, two rings with a microwave above it, that would be Baked Beans and Toast as the staple diet then.

The second property was basically a Galley Kitchen with a Bedroom at one end, and a Bedroom on the other, at least it has a cooker.

Hopefully the house is still available.

To make today bearable I was the ‘Welcoming Committee’ for my Aunt-In-Law – is there such a post?  Her Niece was accompanying her on a trip to Birmingham to see my husband, to see them made me forget the stress of moving, and then an unexpected gift.  It was is a 1930 Rule Book from the Deutche Reichsbahn, the German State Railway, and a Union Membership card.

The books serve no value, they are indecipherable to me, but they are beautiful, they are a token of affection and thought.

Suddenly things do not seem quite so bad, because there are good people.

I want a home, I can do it.

Former Tory MP claims she can tell someone’s religion by the way they tweet

Louise Mensch should not have left politics …

Pride's Purge

(not satire – it’s Louise Mensch!)

Oh dear.

Former Tory MP Louise Mensch claims she can tell someone’s religion by the way they tweet:

I’m not sure I can tell someone’s religion by the way they tweet.

But I’m pretty good at telling someone’s a prat by the way they do it.

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Please feel free to comment.

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Freeing Pussy Riot doesn’t make Russia OK

A few weeks ago the members of Pussy Riot were freed, it would have been fairly embarrassing to have the two remaining members of Pussy Riot incarcerated during the Winter Olympics.  The gesture was fairly hollow, three months of their sentence remaining is hardly a big gesture, though I have say if I was cooped up in Prison – Russian or otherwise – twelve weeks less would be welcome.  The gesture was a calculated moved.  As the world applauded their release Russia was busying persecuting its gay population, and more than that, using its propaganda machine to dehumanise its gay population.

I don’t define myself primarily as gay, and I don’t think the gay rights issue in Russia is a gay rights issue, it is human rights issue – and as such should be addressed as such.  Reading a photo article in the Guardian today was struck by how ordinary the people were, two male couples, two female couples, two singles, two homophobes and how simple the story was – ordinary people in Russia are being victimised by the State whilst neo-Nazi groups kill people without sanction of the State.  The pictures are well composed, the stories very brief and very simple.  Whilst browsing the iPad newsfeed I also came across a story, well it had been in the news all this week of Thomas Hitzlsperger going public about his sexual preferences, this came a few weeks after Tom Daly made a moving announcement about his sexuality.  As in the case of Hitzlsperger the political involved associated with the Football Player rushed to microphone to show their support – primarily Merkel and Cameron.

Digressing a little, I don’t think it should require any comment if someone says that they are gay, but we will live in a world – even Western Europe – where affirmation is still required to combat the hard rump of discrimination – where still feel it is required to say ‘some people are gay, get over it’.  Unfortunately the same leaders and sportsmen and women that rush to media to show their support are very quite when it comes to gay rights in Russia.  The simple fact is that those sports people who come out as being gay would not be welcome at the Winter Olympics at Sochi.

We unfortunately live in a decaying, well decayed, hegemony that requires us to support those oppress our values, and like armchair political activists just voice our support for human rights in the privacy of our own  media.

What does rile me more is that journalists like Clare Balding are going to Sochi, it is more galling because she herself is Lesbian and apparently sees no contradiction in supporting Tom Daley (who wouldn’t be allowed to attend now), and commenting on the Olympic Games as if it was the meeting of the worlds greatest athletes. Of course we all have to make our own choices, but Clare’s is not one that I understand.

Freeing Pussy Riot, as welcome as it is, was just a gesture and we should remember that.