A Sea of Blue and a Niggle. 20/5/15

I have a love hate relationship with politics. I am broadly socialist, yet a strong individualist, with a very strong belief in a social democracy which offers care and social benefits to all citizens on the basis of need.  So I am saddened by the results of last week's general election and the particular model of capitalism it espouses, one in which greed and austerity are like the hands of a very mean monster.  In my daily life,  I do not dislike Conservatives on an individual level. Political beliefs and opinions are only part of what makes a person who they are, and I have met cold and  blinkered socialists, and some kind, gentle conservatives but I cannot support austerity politics and the outsourcing of public services and I am concerned for what the future holds in terms of the welfare of the people, especially those in England and Wales.

As I write this, I struggle to come to terms with the fact that while England has gone blue, Scotland has embraced the SNP. The Scots seem to be merging strong  nationalistic pride with a social democratic model and a progressive agenda; so what is wrong with that? Nothing on the face of it,  yet my gut is starting to give me really strong niggles. The niggles link to Cameron's desire that English MP's should vote on English things, at a time when the Scots have ousted Scottish Labour for an SNP platform that offers the promise of the best of both worlds: National Pride and progressive social polices.  My fear is that this could be catastrophe for the English and the Welsh.  England and Wales could end up with elitist policies and more privatisation of vital services, whilst the Scots continue to have free university tuition fees and other benefits. Nicola Sturgeon is already looking to set her own taxes to fund the promises she has made. Once parliament is formed and the voting starts, will the SNP give a damn about the poor and disadvantaged of England and Wales? I cannot help but feel that the social welfare of the people of these two countries was partly tied up with Scottish Labour.

I was never convinced Labour would get a majority but the failure of the polls was surprising. Reading on-line yesterday, I found a link to this article. It suggests significant numbers of conservative voters tend to be coy about sharing their voting preferences and how this may have impacted on the polls. In a typically English way, there are lots of people who quietly and privately vote for what they believe is the best option and keep that entirely to themselves or those they trust.

Will England forever be conservative?


Article from the Catholic Herald

The old year has burnt down like a candle. Only the stub is left. The shaft of light flickers, rises and falls away as it reaches the end of the wick. In just a few hours the  spirit of the year to come will arrive like a newly created candle,  fragrant with new adventures, kind words, shocks, twists, journeys and joys; rich with unknown possibilities.   Tonight, she will place it carefully on the hearth of your soul, an altar to all that is to come on the path not yet traversed. All she is asks is that you light the light of a new year.

Elderberry Wine

The nights getting shorter. Autumn is arriving early, or so the experts are suggesting. The cycle continues like the Church calendar.  Each year follows the same pattern in new and different ways; the new and the familiar threading together to make a new piece of material in the patchwork of our lives.

My son and his friend went berrying yesterday, gathering blackberries and whinberries. I asked them if they were making jam, 'No', they replied, 'We're making wine.' This will be the second lot; I hadn't realised they had already joined the birds in helping themselves to the elderberries from the back garden. Hope it tastes good.

A Sonnet

Shakespeare, he knew a thing or two.

Sonnet  94

They that have power to hurt and will do none,

That do not do the thing they most do show,

Who, moving others, are themselves as stone,

Unmoved, cold, and to temptation slow:

They rightly do inherit heaven's graces

And husband nature's riches from expense;

They are the lords and owners of their faces,

Others but stewards of their excellence.

The summer's flower is to the summer sweet

Though to itself it only live and die,

But if that flower with base infection meet,

The basest weed outbraves his dignity:

For sweetest things turn sourest by their deeds;

Lilies that fester smell far worse than weeds.

W.S.

Change

Today it really felt like Spring...tender and new...

Home made Satire

At tomorrow's book group gathering we have to read a monologue. I'm channelling my inner Irene Ruddock for the entertainment of my friends. I've always known (and not just because my beloved tells me so) that I have the imprint of Alan Bennettsville running through me like Blackpool through a stick of rock.

The East Kent Coast

From the rolling green hills of Dorset to the bleaker, yet still beautiful, coast of East Kent.

I journeyed around the area spanning the Thames Estuary to Sandwich Bay. Each town with its own distinct character. Whistable's narrow streets and pebbly shore has real character, as befits the ancient port of Canterbury. Beloved of trendy media types, the town also celebrates its connection with Hammer Horror stalwart Peter Cushing. A bench sits on the beach, a stones throw from the Oyster Houses, a memorial to Peter and his beloved wife who pre-deceased him. My dad boasts his claim to fame as maker of the wrought iron rivets that hold the bench together.

Peter Cushing's bench

Herne Bay, despite some fine Georgian terraces  along the sea front, lacks the style of its more media savvy neighbour but I would recommend the sea walk from The Kings Hall to Reculver, a holiday hamlet and country park which boasts the rebuilt ruins of historic twin towers.  An early centre of Christianity, Reculver is associated with the St Augustus who first brought the faith to England. There is also clear evidence of an early Roman Fort serving Richborough. The view across the long-silted Watsun channel looks towards Margate.

Reculver

Margate, the tattiest of the three main Thanet coastal towns, is busy polishing its image now its home to the Turner Gallery, the Tate's latest venture. Small scale entrepreneurs are tarting up the old town, which is a pleasant place to spend an afternoon. I enjoyed an excellent pint at The Life Boat Ale and Cider House.

Life Boat Ale and Cider House


Next comes Broadstairs, the perfect Victorian sea side town, with lovely beaches, bags of character and an  annual folk week, which features free music in many pubs and a craft market,  in addition to the main gigs.

Broadstairs folk week

Broadstairs goes a little overboard with all things Dickensian. Streets and pubs bear the names of much loved characters.  I like the  Dickens Museum in what was the model for  Miss Betsey Trotwood's House. I cannot pass by without thinking of the kindly but intimating character dashing to the front door shouting, 'Donkeys Janet! Donkeys!' as she chased off anyone who dared to even approach her threshold.

Dickens Museum

One my favourite walks is between Broadstairs and Ramsgate at low tide in either direction.

 Ramsgate is a little down a heel, perhaps, but  possesses a superb harbour and marina .  It has some impressive Georgian squares and terraces, which conjure up images of gentility. According to the Ramsgate History Society, there are 900 listed buildings in the town. There's also a monastery and house designed by Pugin.

The Ramsgate Society web site

After that, on past the Pegwell and Sandwich bays into the historical town of Sandwich, slightly inland. One of the finest historical towns in the UK. I recommend the Secret Garden, a wonderful place with a large house design by Lutyens. Walking in the gardens towards the house, it is easy to believe you are suspended in time on  the eve of the First World War.

The Secret Garden


(I feel like Michael Portillo on one of his railway journeys.)