The liberty bodice brigade

‘Liberty’ and ‘freedom’ are two very powerful and emotive words that rational left thinking people should hold very dear, yet we allow the right, and more often the extreme right to hijack them. In true Orwellian newspeak stylee they bandy them around to add weight to their arguments, and we allow them to wear them like they own them. I’m sure you know the type of people I mean. They are those that Monty Python (or was it I’m Sorry I’ll Read That Again?) said droned on and on until they fell over backwards. They are inbreeds and their lackeys, and they oppose all change. They protested about the legalisation of homosexuality. They want to bring back hanging. They don’t believe in equal opportunities. They are usually racist. They want out of the European Union. They don’t want to pay taxes unless it’s for ‘defence’ or the police. They think blood sports are good clean fun, that health and safety is a joke, and that the law is there just to keep little people in their place.

They portray advances towards civilisation and democracy as attacks on personal liberty and the erosion of freedom. Their idea of freedom is the freedom to oppress and exploit others. They appear in various guises from Tory party member, to Daily Mail reader via UKIP and the BNP. They are the land-owners, the pro-hunting lobby and the anti smoking ban whingers. They believe that fat cat captains of industry should be paid obscene amounts, whilst at the same time suggesting that the pittance of a minimum wage is ruining business. They are reactionary knob-heads, and they are holding this country back. A plague on all their houses!

Of course in reality there is only one true freedom, and that is anarchy. A concept most of the liberty bodice brigade just couldn’t comprehend.

Long-haired lout

For quite a few years now my haircut of choice has been a Nº4 up the back and sides and a Nº6 on top. Upon moving to Norwich I decided that I would grow it long in a last-ditch attempt to have a ponytail before it all starts to fall out.

I had previously said goodbye to shoulder length hair back in 1977 at the same time as I parted company with my flairs. My hair is just about shoulder length again although I don’t think anything could persuade me to wear flares. God that was not a good look, and don’t get me started on ‘Loon Pants’ which were indeed a crime on humanity. It is still not quite long enough to fashion into a ponytail but it won’t be long so in anticipation I’ve purchase myself a pack of black elasticised hair band thingies from that nice Mr Tesco. I shall inevitably look like a complete twerp when the time comes, but it’s got to be done: 'a man’s gotta do what a man’s gotta do', so to speak!

I had forgotten how much of a pain in the proverbial long hair was. It takes forever to dry. Brushing or combing it is quite painful as it seems continually to be tangled up in knots. I am a martyr to my boyish good looks!

Once I’ve achieved my goal its days will be numbered as I can’t wait to return to the low maintenance option of the close cut Barnet. As my hair inevitably thins out I intend to have it cut even shorter. No Bobby Charlton comb-over for me.

Something for the weekend sir?

Shit happens, again!

It was a cruel irony that a couple of days before the start of national Carers Week my lady, who works in that sector within local government, fell and broke her ankle, again, and I effectively became her carer. Our life was thrown out of kilter a couple of weeks ago and it is taking me a while to adjust to coping with everything I have to do. The break was quite bad this time, in fact it was two fractures, and so they had to operate and put plate and pins in. As a result she has to keep her leg up most of the time for the next six weeks.

In some ways we were a bit prepared for the consequences of the temporary disability as it’s less than a year since she broke her ankle (same one) before, but unfortunately she has less mobility this time.

I really feel for those that are full-time/permanent carers. It’s not an easy job. Without them the health and social service sectors would grind to a halt. Carers are so vital yet so often go unsung. Our predicament should be short lived. We’ve just had to put our lives on hold for a short period. But for those that have to live this way all of the time I am sure often struggle.

My lady has been treated at the Norfolk and Norwich University Hospital, where the treatment and the staff have all been first class. It’s a modern hospital that was one of the first, I believe, to have been built as a public-private ‘partnership’. Apart from that I only noticed one major flaw it has been designed, probably, by able bodied people for able bodied people. Yes they have no doubt conformed to disability legislation but that is really as far as it goes. You don’t really notice these things until it affects your life in some way. It is just so hard to take someone with their leg in plaster to Out Patients firstly there is a distinct lack of managed space to drop someone off by car, and near enough to the entrance. The next hurdle is to wander off and find a wheelchair. Another trial. I’m sure that those that are permanently disabled would be thinking that I should stop whinging and to stop being such a big girl’s blouse. Which may well be a fair point but my next gripe I feel is much warranted. You would imagine that a fracture clinic is going to have more than its fair share of bods on crutches or in wheelchairs. That given why on earth are their waiting rooms so user unfriendly?

There is nowhere to park a wheelchair, movement around chairs is difficult, nay precarious, and for a new facility that is treating people with broken bones it’s diabolical!

All these shenanigans along with some heavy duty diy, some days away and other assorted grief prior to The Lady’s accident has meant that I’ve been neglecting my blogs. I hope I’ve now got things under control and can get back to blogging a bit more. Watch this (and this: www.realaleblog.co.uk) space.

Can these colonials get anything right?

Only in America!

Presumably they don't have a trades description act in the US of A or has scientific thinking changed on the makeup of sugar?

See the carbon free sugar here.

Roast beef and custard

Last night we went to the Norwich Arts Centre to see a performance of a show of words and music called ‘Phrased & Confused’. Unfortunately it was not that well attended (thank goodness they are getting an Arts Council grant). Whether this was down to poor publicity, poor or insufficient reviews or just bad luck I have no idea but it did seem a shame. The arts are going to suffer in this recession of that there is no doubt.

The show was basically made up of four acts:

• Dead Poets, a mash-up of MC-ing and poetry, courtesy of MC Mixy and poet Mark Grist.
• ‘atmospheric’ poet Aoife Mannix and accordionist Janie Armour
• Murray Lachlan Young
• Canadian folk collective Woodpigeon

Each act was very different from all of the others, which meant there was essentially something for everyone. I was impressed by the Dead Poets they amused, they pushed at a few boundaries and they provoked a few thoughts in me. I’ve no doubt that it has been done, but I sat thinking that a Shakespeare play executed in the rap style would be interesting to watch. The main reason for going, as far as I was concerned, was to see Murray Lachlan Young, and he certainly didn’t disappoint. His shit-hot alliteration, assonance and good old fashioned repetition, along with diverse subject matter, amusing introductions and very funny poems delivered in a faultless and expressive manner make for a mesmerising performance. The audience loved him and rightly so. The man is a genius. If you get a chance to see this man, do it. You will not regret it, I promise you!

Unfortunately I didn’t go a bundle on the other two acts. That’s not to say that they weren’t any good, it was just that they weren’t to my liking. They simply were not my cup of tea. My only criticism is with whoever produced the show. Shoddy would be putting it mildly. Very little thought seemed to have been given to the flow of the performance, as a result the pace was just so erratic that it reduced the impact, and at times challenged one’s concentration. It had the feeling of being slung together with very little thought which is so unfair to the artists involved. Think of it as a three course meal with its constituent parts served up in big uncomplimentary incompatible dollops. With a holistic approach the result would have most definitely been a show that was far greater than the sum of its parts rather than the pig’s ear that it was!

P.S Murray Lachlan Young was truly the headline act so why wasn’t he put on last?

We’re all doomed!

THE RECESSION IS OVER!

The recession, that catastrophic financial near-Armageddon is over. We are no longer going to be forever bankrupt as a nation. The reason: The Media has a new scare to generate an abundance of hot air. WE ARE ALL GOING TO DIE! Well I suppose that’s stating the bleedin’ obvious, but our doom is considerably more impending than perhaps we imagined if the newspapers, radio and telly are to be believed. Swine Flu is the latest craze, and boy are they going to town on it.

The News Media could best be described as a nagging old busybody, and “The lady doth protest too much, methinks.”* It seems to have nothing better to do than whip the public up into frenzy. In a world where there is so much disease, famine, poverty, injustice and war that largely goes unreported it is sickening when something that affects a few white people gets so heavily reported.

We received this email at work today. Opportunist or what?

I fully expect that any day now that a newspaper will report that the government has awarded a contract to Capita to recruit staff to push hand-carts, ring hand-bells and shout “bring out you dead!”

Is it me?






* Queen Gertrude - Hamlet Act 3, scene 2, by Willy the Spear shaker

Shakespeare

"Shakespeare was a man of wit,
And on his shirt he had some sh…


…irt buttons!"

Had he lived, young Willy would have been 445 today.

Today should be a bank holiday, but only in celebration of The Bard!

William Shakespeare (1564 - 1616)