So Dave can be certain that none of his dubious conversations were anything other than innocent, but he can’t actually remember all of the conversations. I remember Dave telling us that there was no alternative to cutting the defecit, by cutting services. Will he tell us next that he can’t remember saying that, but he can remember becoming PM? Face it Dave, you’re losing your touch when it comes to telling porkies. Some people, who really hate you, did actually respect the fact you were a very capable liar. They saw you as a worthy opponent, a challenge to be met head on. Now, they just hate you, see you as a joke politician who is fading away every time you come up against a problem. You never convinced those of the left, but you did pull the wool over the eyes of the politically blind. They are starting to wake up, see you for what you really are. A FRAUD, A CHARLATAN, A BAREFACED LIAR! You lay down with a dingo, you got fleas. Time to put your neck on the line and test the mood of the country. A referendum, asking the people to either back you or sack you. It isn’t a vote that you have to abide by, just ask the people what they really think of you and your government. Do you have the balls Dave? I doubt it, but it would be very interesting to find out, would’nt it?
I sit alone at midnight, the television providing background noise but failing to catch my interest. CLICK! The kettle has boiled, the biscuit tin calls to me, it’s time for a brew. I often tweet or write on my blog in the small hours, partly due to mild insomnia, partly because I find it easier to think when I know that most other people are asleep. It gives me a greater sense of being alone, enabling me to observe from a distance and reflect on the days events. Well today, something happened that I can only describe as epiphanous, a moment of realisation and clear understanding that shook me to the core. It wasn’t political, it didn’t involve my brelationship with my ex, or my children and it wasn’t about money or work or any of the major issues of life. A family friend, a woman in her sixties who drinks far too much and doesn’t take her medication properly asked me to find out if I can become her official carer. She had her own epiphany recently, while I was helping her to clear out the belongings of her deceased only child. He died in november, throwing her into a downward spiral of drinking herself towards oblivion. On friday morning she asked me to go into her sons room and start bringing his clothes downstairs This was a major event for her, having refused to even open the door since his demise. As I began the task, she gripped my hand tightly and said,”I’m doing the right thing, aren’t I? I’m letting him go, because I know he won’t be back”. I told her that, if she felt ready to do this it was the right thing to do. And that’s when it hit me, when I realised I needed to let go of the past, to put away the ghosts of history and walk towards the future. So I made a decision, one that I’ve avoided for many years. I’m going to contact my worthless, alcoholic father and tell him that I no longer hate, but pity him. He and his attitude to family life is at the root of my own mental health history, I’ve spent years hating him, not realising that the bitterness that built up inside was the thing that was causing my own insufferable behaviour. It’s time to let go , put it away where it belongs. In the past! I’ll let you know how it all works out. First I have to track him down.
Are we being serious with this display of adoration, for a monarch who does not represent the nation? Are we doing it for her, or for the world beyond our border? As they watch the display, they must think something’s out of order. Do they look at us with our fawning and falseness, and think us to be under duress? Do they laugh at us and feel such pity, as we feel for a beggar on the streets of the city? I wonder how they see us, this once proud race, tugging our forelocks and knowing our place. If you feel such love for our darling Queen, then express it openly by all means. But don’t expect the rest of us folk, to see it as anything more than a joke. Not all the people bow and scrape to seek the favour of Lizzie the great, some of us just think it’s all a bit much as we know that the system is out of touch. Can we justify the vast expense, can the system offer a sound defense? Is it right to spend such a large amount, when so many people are being left out?
As the ship was tied off, the nomad stepped onto the jetty. He observed the man holding the thick heavy rope, his hands rough and scarred, his skin filthy and bearing the marks of several beatings. His clothes mere rags, his hair a matted mess. ” May I ask you sir, does your employer not treat you well?” “My master treats how he sees fit, and you must not call me sir, for I am but a slave”. “We are all slaves here, mere chattells”, said the slave. As he moved his arms the chains clanked and rattled, “The Master gives shelter and some little food, we ask no more for our brood”. “But”, asked the nomad, “do you crave not freedom as is your right?” “To seek freedom”, said the slave, “would mean to fight”, his shoulders dropped low and his eyes lower still. “The Master would not hesitate to kill, he is the one with the power over life, he would not kill me but my children, my wife”. The nomad thought for a moment, then spoke with passion and fire. “Freedom is your right, and must also be your desire!” “I beg of you sir, speak not this way. We are happy to be as we are”, said the slave. “We live this way from cradle to grave”. The nomad grew angry, his face turned red. “I call no place home and yet, I would rather my life than to live as though dead!” “How can you exist as sheep, cowed and beaten, broken and weak!” “We know nothing other than that we are told, the knowledge that comes from the book so old. The Master says knowledge is a burden too great to bear, so he takes upon himself to care. To carry the burden of knowing, to bear that yolk. Knowledge is too overwhelming for we common folk”. The nomad could bear it no more, he stiffened and drew out his sword, “If you will not fight for freedom, why should I not kill you where you stand? Or must I fight in your place and place freedom in your hand?” The slave offered no reply, his body weak and broken. His mind so dulled the words that were spoken did not reach, such a man would be difficult to teach. “I’m sorry”, said the nomad, “I should not force you to change, yet your fear of freedom is depressingly strange”, as he sheathed his sword and turned about. He heard his heart break, he wanted to scream out. He cut loose the moorings and set sail once more, to seek out freedom on some distant shore.
I recently seperated from my partner after sixteen years, two great kids and if I’m being honest, a hard life that should have been a lot easier. I’ve suffered with depression since the age of about thirteen, been through mental hell and destroyerd what should and could have been a great life, with the best woman any man could wish to know. At the age twenty-five, I met the “The One”, and I thought that all the previous misery in my head was gone for good. I was wrong. It resurfaced, then died away, then came back. Yes I was ill, but the truth is I got stuck in a routine, it felt safer not to fight it, easier to be ill. She really is a amazing person, a great mum, loyal friend, a carer who genuinely cares, and one of those people who doesn’t let life get to her. She stuck by me through the worst of times, because she truly loved me. I repaid her by letting down and betraying her trust. She’s always worked and she works damned hard. I work hard, but for most of the last two years I’ve been unemployed, not for the first time, but this time was just too much for her. I did stupid wreckless things, lost good jobs, made life hard. I caused her heartache and pain, none of which she deserved, because she deserved much better from me. At the age of forty-one I’m kicking myself for messing up something that many people yearn for. I had love, loyalty and happiness handed to me on a plate and I threw it away, because I couldn’t believe that I deserved it. I handled it very badly indeed. If i can never regain her love, trust and respect that will be the price I must pay for the wrong I have done. I will make her proud of me, by finding and keeping a job and sorting out my life for good. The anger I feel towards myself, I will aim elsewhere from now on. Straight at this coalition of the corrupt and incompetent, I will use it as a weapon to help bring them down! I’m not saying they are to blame for my situation, but it’s helpful to have someone to take it out on. Later people, stay safe and be happy.
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