Nowhere man - Life in France

It's now been three years since we moved to France. It's been a painful experience overall but in the last year things have become a little better. It's never going to be easy here but life is good here at the moment. Things go wrong, we have setbacks but we get there eventually. Things take a lot longer to sort here than back in the UK but they eventually get done. Patience is definitely a virtue worth cultivating here. The pace of life is slower and you have to learn to go with the flow or you'll go mad.

My French is improving slowly but I don't think I'll ever be fluent. I suppose I don't use it as much as I could if I got out into the community a bit more. Being an introvert doesn't help but also I'm not the most talkative person in English so expecting me to chatter a lot in french really isn't going to happen. But anyway I've adjusted to life here, the climate is mostly kind, the lifestyle is pretty good and the health service is excellent. I’d probably find it difficult adjusting to life back in the UK again and I know I wouldn’t like the weather. We’ll see what the next year brings.

Us and them

The working classes are the reason for their own downfall and their own predicaments.

They are the ones who bought the Sun and the Daily Mail et al. They are the ones who have consistently voted Tory, LibDem and Blue Labour. 

They are the ones who voted for Brexit.

They are the ones who allowed the financial rape and pillage of the UK to happen. They are the reason why there’s not enough housing.

They are the ones who allowed services to be constantly cut, for privatisation to happen.

They are the ones that continue to allow themselves to be exploited.

They are the ones who voted for austerity.

They are the ones who voted for neo liberalism, for shit jobs, for stress, for zero hours contracts. They created the precariat.

They are the ones who abandoned the unions.

They are the ones who were turkeys consistently voting for Christmas. And they still continue to do so.

Of course I say ‘they’ but what I really mean is ‘we’, for it is we that have allowed this. 'We' because I am working class, and reading this, you are probably working class too!

Why do we continue down this road of self harm?

What is wrong with us?

It's not somebody else's fault. We are to blame. When is it ever going to stop?

Why is it so fucking difficult?

Why do we remain so fucking divided?

I consider myself a socialist. One of the many things I have always found irritating about the leftwing is the way many eulogise the working class. We, the working class, are our own worst enemy. There's more of us than them. We outnumber them by an extraordinary factor, yet we seem incapable of doing anything about it.

Stop falling for their shit. Stop taking their shiny beads. Their money has no real value. No money has value. All money is artifice. The only thing of value is our labour. It is the only currency.

Wake up!

Nowhere Man continued

 It's well over two years now since we moved to France. Thankfully we've just had our visas renewed for another year.  Am I feeling any better another year on? Not really.

Much of the problem is down to the year I've had. It's not been the best of years for quite a number of reasons. The shit year has meant that because of outside forces I've either not been able to concentrate or spend enough time on learning French. Not having a reasonable command of the language causes me a great deal of anxiety and stress. If I'm honest I don't enjoy the process of learning languages. They are illogical and as a consequence my brain just can't cope at times. It is a painful process.

Don't get me wrong, I like where I live. It's a nice place and the climate is very agreeable. The standard of living is very good too. It is this overwhelming feeling of being totally out of control that I find so difficult.

Hopefully time will change things but it's a very slow process.

Sylvia

 My mum died in August, she was 92. That’s truly a long life. She was ready to go. She’d been in a lot of pain for a couple of years so it was a merciful release. 70 years is a long time to have your mum in your life. So this Christmas will be the first one that I won’t talk to her. Much to my sisters’ annoyance I was her favourite. She always denied that, but I know I was her favourite. I was always her little boy, right up to the day she died, and her little boy was with her to the end. I watched as she drew her last breath and peacefully slipped away.

Even though I was her little boy we used to have quite vigorous discussions, sometimes bordering on the edge of arguments, and I have to say I lost it the day she told me she’d voted for brexit. Mother, I always called her that, came from a long line of puritanical bigots. Staunch chapel folk who never let their ‘Christianity’ interfere with their judgemental bigotry. Respectable English middle class white people who believed in hard work and a lifestyle not too comfortable or ostentatious. Of course the family wasn’t really English because a generation or so prior to my granddad's, the family had come from Scotland. Grandad also married a Scots woman, my Nana. I’ve really worked hard to break the bigotry chain. I hope I've succeeded. I now tend to use that trait as a source of humour or making a point.

I do have a lot to thank mother for I led a reasonably nice life thanks to her. Before I was born she had worked in a music/record shop, Harper’ in Bury St Edmunds, she absolutely adored music. Something I inherited from her. She could play the piano. Her parents had owned a baby grand piano. She had lessons when she was old enough. Her and her brothers also slept under it during the war apparently. Working in the music shop enabled her to build up quite a collection, for the fifties, of records. Music was so often on in our house, either records or the radio. We didn’t have a telly until I was about five. Mum was always quite creative and certainly helped and encouraged me with my drawing and painting. Her father, having filled my head with stories of his travels when in the navy, this  fuelled my desire to travel. It was my mother who paid for me to go on two educational cruises in the Mediterranean when I was at secondary school. It added so much to my life. 

My dad was never happy about it but mum went out to work once my youngest sister went to school. I by default, being the eldest child,  took on some responsibilities. I walked to school with my youngest sister and spent the first year when she was at school having school dinners with the infants to be with and look after her. During the school holidays I was responsible for seeing that we had our lunch. To begin with Mum would make something for me to heat up, but later I would actually part prepare or totally prepare a simple meal. Mum taught me to cook, which I’m very grateful for. Mum worked really hard, mostly in food factories, and it enabled us to have a comfortable lifestyle. Again something I am very grateful for.

Later when I was first married she would provide foodstuffs from the factory shop she worked at for us. Then when my marriage broke up her and her husband gave me a roof over my head for a few months. When she was widowed and I was a bit better off I did try and repay her whenever I could. She was however a stubborn old bugger (another family trait)  and certainly refused to be helped on occasions when she really needed it.

She died in hospital but had spent her final four weeks prior to that in a care home. She never wanted to be ‘any trouble’, but of course by being like she was, it did actually cause trouble. Unfortunately I’m a bit like that too.

We were never a hugging or kissing family, which is why I find social affection difficult. I did however kiss her forehead and told her I loved her the day before she died. 

Me and mum

The Measure of Right-Wingery

“The Measure of Right-Wingery” is a scale linking the spectrum of right-wing behaviour from all bullying to the extreme that is fascism, and all other right wing politics in between. The left-hand side depicts bullying — the impulse to dominate, belittle, or control others — while the right-hand side culminates in fascism, where these same instincts are systematised into political ideology and state power. The gauge suggests that right-wing tendencies share a common foundation in hierarchical thinking, authoritarianism, and the belief that strength justifies control. As one moves along the scale, these traits grow more organised and ideological, transforming from personal cruelty into collective oppression. Bullying, and all right wing thinking, including fascism are not separate phenomena, but are points on a continuum of coercion and dehumanisation that underpins the far-right worldview. All right wing views will be on this scale somewhere.

Don’t tell them I’m an introvert I can’t stand crowds

It’s not easy being an introvert. I’ve struggled all my life with things that require me to enter social situations. Social media can be highly beneficial for introverts because it provides a comfortable space for communication without the pressure of face-to-face interaction. Many introverts find it easier to express their thoughts and ideas through writing rather than speaking, and social media platforms allow them to share opinions, creativity, and experiences at their own pace. This flexibility helps introverts build confidence in social interactions and maintain connections without feeling drained or overwhelmed by constant in-person engagement. It has helped me no end.

Social media also allows introverts to find and connect with like-minded people across the world,  join online communities, follow interests, and engage in meaningful discussions about topics they truly care about. This sense of belonging helps them form deep, genuine relationships that might be harder to develop in traditional social settings. In this way, social media not only enhances social interaction for introverts but also helps them thrive emotionally and intellectually in a way that suits their personality. I’ve met a lot of nice people through social media. It can be a force for good if used in the right way.

Three score years and ten

 I'm not sure celebrating a bit of longevity due to what is effectively a mix of genetics and lifestyle is really something I want to do. Plus recently a few problems have reared their ugly heads to get  in the way of celebrating, even if I wanted to. But we won't dwell on that. Today is my birthday and the good news is that I have a selection of beer and a bag of crisps, well when I say crisps I really mean a big bag of cheesy puffs, my favourite. And essentially that’s enough for me. 

Famous people I share a birthday with include, Brian Cox (son of Dundee, and actor), Tom Robinson, Roonie Wood, Mike Joyce, Jonathan Pryce, Morgan Freeman and Robert Powell. Famous dead people who were born on this day (because of course dead people don't have birthdays) include Marilyn Monroe, Bob Monkhouse, Edward Woodward, Cleavon Little and Nelson Riddle.

As I've said before many times, in my head I'm still seventeen. Obviously my body increasingly laughs at this and refuses to play ball but I do feel that refusing to grow old mentally helps a little.

I've always made my art for my own amazement, I have been in exhibitions a few times, but I haven't put a lot of effort into it, it has to be said. There are occasions though when I think I would like my Warholian fifteen minutes but for my art rather than me. I guess that I'm a very shy person has never helped. Anyway if someone reading this can influence in any way my art reaching a much wider audience I'd really like that please.

Anyway, as you were.