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This place is fast becoming a weekend blog and things aren’t likely to change in the foreseeable. What with working full-time, having cross country university tours to attend, rugby tournaments to tour (he’s playing full contact now you know and I did get my own way on the padded shirt thing) and dancing queens to taxi around for rehearsals and shows, it leaves me with very little mid-week blogging time. Even the weekends are a rush because it’s the only time I get to catch up with the mundanities of life such as shopping and housework. And I can totally write-off a day of rest! Not a chance.

That said, we are off to Centreparcs on the 17th for a week of outdoor and indoor activities, fun and games. Yay! We’re also planning to kick back and relax and maybe get ourselves a sauna and a massage or two. Me laddie wants to do some abseiling and canoeing and Middlie has roped me into some horse riding which I’m not muchly pleased about. I love horses but I’ve never sat on one in my life, unless you can count the donkey rides on Blackpool beach that used to scare me to death, mainly on account of me once getting my leg stuck between the donkey I was riding and its not-so-friendly colleague, a competitive donkey with a mean streak that went by the name of Mean Streak and took it upon his donkey self to win the race by pushing me and my lovely humble little ass into the cold, grey sea. Scared me to bloody death it did.

Anyway, I will try to keep up on a regular basis because the blog world is a fickle place and unattended blogs soon get pushed off the radar. It’s probably already too late but I’ll carry on because regardless of visitors (or lack thereof), when I get the chance to rant, I do so enjoy it.

Have a great weekend folks.

So let me get this straight . . .

The rush to rescue the banks and the bankers is happening across the world.

Congress has finally agreed to rescue Wall Street after having reconsidered its position due to some changes made to the bill. We knew they would come round eventually and apparently, the bill is just the same but with some pages added regarding millions of tax breaks. Tax breaks for who I’m not quite sure about but I’ll withhold the cynicism for now.

Our own Brown government is bailing out Bradford & Bingley. Prior to this, it bailed out Northern Rock.

Iceland is doing something similar and so is Europe as a whole.

I’m confused, as usual, on many levels.

What I don’t get is that they are going to take control of the debt part but not the profits. Does this mean, as suggested here, that the public, ie, you and me, will mop up the bad debt of the banks with our own public money and hold that debt which we will pass on to future generations and the bankers will still walk away with the profits?

As the Socialist Worker again rightly puts it, for decades we have been told by Labour and Tory governments alike that the market system is the best and only system but what we were never told is that when that systems crashes . . . when banks fail and shares plummet, we the people would have to foot the bill.

This welfare for Wall Street stands in stark contrast to the daily reality for working people – who face their homes being repossessed . . .

Yes, the welfare of the fat cats of Wall Street, London etc. is clearly very important to our leaders but what about the welfare of the ordinary citizens? What about the stability of the people? Will the ordinary people whose homes are at risk of being repossessed . . will they be bailed out? Will they be rescued too? Will people’s jobs be protected? Will their hard-earned pensions be safe?

The politicians argue that it must be done to give stability to the banking systems as a whole and the Brown government is calling it nationalisation which begs another question, why is he suddenly on the side of nationalisation when it involves getting his corporate banker friends out of trouble but remains vehemently opposed to the renationalisation of our vital public utilities?

Ultimately though, will the people’s basic interests be protected?

No, see, what actually happens is that government’s will quickly come to the rescue of banks that have gone into debt while ordinary people who get into debt are shown no such compassion.  They simply have their homes repossessed and are subsequently blacklisted for years.

I understand that Hobsons Choice may be at play here and the banking crisis will impact all our lives if the government doesn’t step in but given that we have to use public money to bail them out, it’s only right that the ordinary person facing serious financial difficulties due to said crisis should also be given some protection.

Amnesty Appeal

The government is soon to push its 42 day detention bill through parliament and Amnesty is asking us not to sleepwalk into it. The bill will allow the police to lock terror suspects up for 42 days without charge. And if, perchance, it doesn’t matter to you that some random person with a Muslim name, who knows someone who is related to someone whose sister’s boyfriend’s cousin happened to download an essay with the word Jihad in the title, is arrested under the aforementioned terrorist law, please bear in mind that circumstances can arrange for any one of us, at any time, to fall foul of this terror law and become “terror suspects”. Try to imagine how you would feel.

The bill will breach our civil liberties without increasing our security.

If you haven’t already signed against this bill, here’s your chance:

Say ‘No’ to 42 days.

Good One!

Goodone is, in their own words, an award-winning, sustainable fashion design company with an edge. They design and produce innovative, quality, one-off clothing made from hand-picked, locally-sourced, recycled fabrics.

And another principled feature of this company is that one of their design ranges is supporting and promoting the No Torture, No compromise campaign led by Human Rights group Liberty. All the profits from this range will be donated to the group. Liberty is a human rights organisation that fights for our basic civil rights and challenges Parliament when our government seeks to undermine those basic civil rights.

If I was a young and gorgeous eighteen year old again, I know I would be proud to strut my ethical stuff in such innovative and outlandish gear (sans the dodgy neck attire admittedly).

Good one indeed.

Being a Refugee

Mysoul has a wonderful and moving way of expressing her thoughts. This powerful and touching poem that she wrote on her blog is one example:

Refugee

Its a long walk to the border
Little tired legs swing
As she rides the strong shoulder
“Daddy, how much farther?â€
“Just beyond that Hill†says the Man.

“How many times is that?†the Man wonders
On this long journey to the no man’s land
Fear hides behind these mundane words
“Just a little furtherâ€,
“Beyond that treeâ€,
“Beyond that riverâ€,
“Across that valleyâ€,
“Just another day’s walkâ€
“Just… just… justâ€
Knowing full well,
Just beyond the horizon
Is the great Unknown
Yet he walks,
Gathering hope,
Picking up courage,
Building faith within,
Just so,
His daughter may live,
Without the scars of war.
Mysoul

See. The asylum-seeker has a face . . . a human face. And a heart that hurts.

In Britain there are those who believe we should always give asylum to genuine refugees. There are those who believe that refugees are putting a huge strain on our country’s resources and that we have no choice but to reject their applications and deport them. And there are those who believe that they are all disingenous scroungers seeking to exploit our generous welfare.

Mysoul’s poem shows us the human face of the refugee.

Unfortunately, those who make the decisions - the cold and detached officials who see only faceless names on paper, and the current government and it’s opposition party who impose knee-jerking asylum policies that pander to the tabloid hysterics about the country being swamped by refugees, they will never see the human story within.  And it’s to their great shame.

Queenie - “I want more”

Well I can’t keep my mouth shut about this. The Queen has privately asked for more (tax-payers) money for the maintainance and upkeep of her official residences and for her official duties. Royal staff have called for a VAT exemption on payments for services given to the Queen and I hear that as things stand the Queen’s reserves will be gone by 2011.

Ok, the buildings belong to the state anyway so it’s our obligation to maintain them. But her subjects are feeling the credit squeeze too. The running costs of our own humble little abodes are increasing and we arehaving to make cutbacks and tighten our belts. Is it not reasonable to expect the royals to lead by example - to consume less and to budget more?

And I hear that her royal almighty feels that she needs more money to carry out her official duties - her official duties being, as some would argue, a service to the British public. Yes and there are millions of public servants in this country who provide a service to the public and they are having to accept pay-freezes.

Does anyone else find it utterly absurd that one of the richest women in the world is asking for more money? Personally, I think it just goes to prove how ignorantly out of touch the royal householders are with the real world. At a time when the economy is faltering and the country is facing a deep recession, when high levels of unemployment and house repossessions are likely, to ask for more money is not only insensitive, it’s bloody offensive.

From the Republic:

Britain is facing serious financial challenges, people are losing their jobs, the country is getting heavily into debt, yet all the Queen can think about is grabbing more of our hard earned cash.

Suffice to say I’m relieved that the Treasury has thus far refused this ludicrous plea and what’s more, I say let the royal family, as a publicly-funded organisation, go bankrupt. It’s one business that this country can survive perfectly well without.

It’s ok, the bolting hutches of beastliness won’t become paupers overnight. They have huge personal assets, probably much more wealth than we are aware of.

And just so you know, I reject the tourism arguments.

Language!

Today my son called me a horse-back-breaker. Later he said I was a vile standing tuck and a huge bombard of sack.

He’s been learning about the Tudors and his teacher has given him a most comprehensive list of insults that the Tudors used.

To give you further examples:

Bolting Hutch of Beastliness!

Thou Greasy Tallow-Catch

Stuffed Cloak-bag of Guts!

Gosh those Tudors were so bad. Can you imagine Henry VIII using such language? Or Shakespeare? Indeedeth I can!

Somehow, they just don’t reach the spot nowadays do they. I mean they are just not offensive enough. They certainly wouldn’t satisfy my own tourette’s moments. A merry old cuss-fest in our gentlewomen’s rest room cometh the lunching hour is a muchly gratifying experience after an earnest days labour and those comical Tudor-words would not sufficeth.

Another Autumn

Same message as in previous years but with some bitterness added.

The Autumn season is once again upon us and it’s a great time to appreciate and celebrate the fruits that Mother Earth provides in such wonderful abundance.

Tomorrow is the day of the Autumnal Equinox - or Mabon as it’s known in the olde worlde. T’is a multi-faith/secular/pagan celebration and no single religion has the monopoly over this season.

The harvest moon occurs around this time and the farmers are busy gathering in their crops for Winter. It is said that in the days before electricity, the strong lunar light from the full moon would allow the farmers to work well into the evening.

Most major religions celebrate Harvest with Thanksgiving . . . giving thanks to God for the food he provides. I wonder what all the starving people of the world say to God. They can’t thank him for food because they haven’t got any. He certainly seems selective in who he chooses to provide for. Of course, it is our wonderful Mother Earth who deserves our thanks for it is she who produces enough food for each and every one of us. And it’s to our deepest, greatest shame as humans that this food is not evenly distributed so that no-one goes hungry.

It’s the time of the year when the sun crosses the equator and night and day are both of approximately equal length. A time when we gather our harvests, nature prepares for hibernation and we reflect on the past season.

I love all the seasons. Beauty and peace, vibrancy and wonder - they thrive in each of them. But if I had to pick a favourite I think it would be Autumn. The sun is lower and some of the most amazing sunsets can be seen at this time of the year.

The moon, to me, is always at its best at this time of the year too. There are some lovely evening views of a low full moon, often with clouds stretching across giving it an eerie but enchanted glow.

We seem to walk a lot more at this time of the year. There’s nothing more satisfying in a mind, body and spirit kind of way, than walking on a crisp and fresh Autumn day, especially at that mid to late afternoon time of the day.

And, my usual message :

Whatever your spirituality or life ethos happens to be, a merry, peaceful and reflective Autumntide is wished for. Go outside. Walk. Don’t let the beauty of this season pass you by.

I’ve watched the Daily Show before and I’ve really enjoyed John Stewart’s style but when I saw him interview Tony Blair the other night I couldn’t help thinking he was just not brave enough. I only saw the last half and I almost threw up at the end when the host actually gave Blair respect and gratitude for agreeing to come on the show, remarking that he couldn’t even get his own President to appear on the show. Well I can’t imagine that Blair would have agreed to appear while he was Prime Minister. The self-interests are a bit different when you are no longer in charge and have a personal career to publicise.

Seeing Tony Blair smiling and laughing on the show the other night really pissed me off. I mean he has well and truly got away with Iraq hasn’t he! Most war criminals get put on trial. Blair gets high-profile interviews on international television and the chance to self-promote. Very useful when one is starting a new venture. But to see him grinning and laughing his way out of the questions put to him by the host, who I thought was a touch too respectful towards him, really got my blood boiling. I couldn’t help think of all his victims who were killed or maimed in his illegal war. While Blair laughed and grinned and pushed his public image, hundreds of thousands of innocent people, a world away, were suffering from the Bush/Blair Iraq legacy.

My belly-dance teacher has come back from her travels and predictably, she’s returned with itchy feet. Her adventures in the East have unsettled her so much that she has put her house on the market and is packing up and going off again. For good. Or at least indefinitely.

We spent a wonderful evening together this week drinking vino and catching up. Her travel tales had me spellbound. She let me take home part 1 of her travel diaries and I have to say, it reads like a Bridget Jones travelogue, only without the fluff. They had some hair-raising experiences and some very sticky moments. I lost count of the number of times I had to pick my jaw off the floor. Well, a Rough Guide can only guide a traveller so much and then I guess it’s up to the traveller to balance cautiousness with the need for adventure and excitement. But how they got through some of their *scrapes* is beyond me. I can only think that the gods were in a benevolent mood because the chances of them getting out of some of their pickles unharmed were pretty slim. They had a close call which involved some jewel exporting and a gang of faux friends who were eventually (and in the nick of time) revealed to be professional scammers.

But of course, they made many new ‘real’ friends in all the different countries they visited - a varied and diverse bunch of people. And they did lots of partying. I mean lots! Needles to say, I was very envious.

They also became very anti-American when they visited the War Remnant museum in Ho Chi Minh City, Vietnam and were shocked and sickened by the images they saw. Agent orange has certainly left its legacy. They told me the locals refer to the Vietnam war as the American war. Even now, children are still being born with terrible deformities and the landmines are still injuring people, with many amputees being reduced to begging on the streets. Sigh.

Anyway, for six months they lived dangerously, stretched their minds and broadened their horizons. Certainly beats sitting on a computer writing about it. And the belly-dance classes have been knocked on the head but as timing sometimes has it, my daughter’s dance school has just started an adult jazz dance class on Wednesday nights so I am still able to fulfill my dancing desires. And it’s a great aerobic exercise.

Talking of exercise, rugby season has started again and my son has now moved onto full contact. He has all the protective gear - the padded head guard and the gum-shields. I was going to buy him a padded vest too but he protested and his dad sided with him. Sigh. I’ll bide my time and get my way soon enough. Say what you like, I’ve watched them play and they are bloody rough! It’s a full contact sport and although I wouldn’t like to see it go the way of American football, I certainly wouldn’t like him to enter the field with no protection at all. He is only eight years old after all and he only gets one body.

Anyhoo, ttfn. The weekend calls and it’s a glorious day.

I hear that J K Rowling, author of the brilliant Harry Potter books, has donated £1million to the Labour party. I have great admiration for the writer, not just because of her books, but for the way she conquered many social obstacles to achieve her success. Anyway, she has explained that her reason for donating to the Labour party was mainly in recognition of what Gordon Brown has done to eradicate child poverty. Well once upon a time, I wouldn’t have argued with that but perhaps J K is unaware that in spite of Gordon Brown’s efforts and Tony Blair’s historic pledge in 1999 . . .

Our historic aim will be for ours to be the first generation to end child poverty forever, and it will take a generation. It is a twenty year mission, but I believe it can be done.

. . . child poverty has actually increased under Labour and the poverty gap has left Britain a more unequal country than when Labour came to power in 1997.

J K said in support of her decision . . . “I believe that poor and vulnerable families will fare much better under the Labour Party than they would under a Cameron-led Conservative Party.”

Again, I can’t argue with that but it doesn’t mean much when it’s measured against a party that is widely known for its compassionately barren social policies. It would be good if we could be sure that the money will actually go to help the children in poverty but anyone with half a brain cell will know that the £1million is going to be swallowed up by the huge debts that Labour has accrued.

Perhaps Ms Rowling would have been wiser giving the money directly to a credible children’s charity but I guess it’s her prerogative. And I suspect she already donates generously to a number of worthy causes.

Keep the Promise

End Child Poverty has a campaign up and running and on the 4th of October they are holding a Keep the Promise march in Trafalgar Square. Click the banner to find out more.

Snigger

No promises, but this is my last post on Sarah Palin.

I just couldn’t resist. Watch here.

She’s no Arctic Angel

Well I could be accused of using this as an excuse to post a You Tube of the gorgeously handsome Matt Damon but in it he does ask a very important question. He wants to know if Sarah Palin believes that dinosaurs existed 4000 years ago. He thinks this it’s really important that we know this because this woman will after all, possess the nuclear codes.

This page contained an embedded video. Click here to view it.

I think he’s right to make this question. Ok, George Bush had his god-fearing finger on the nuke button for eight years but he was too dumb to know what to do with it. We’re talking here about a reasonably intelligent but compassionately barren woman and it is quite scary.

I have a horrid feeling that the Americans are going to screw up again and vote for Palin. I know Palin isn’t the Presidential candidate but the electorate will be knowingly voting for her in essence because after all, as this poster says . . . she is only an elderly heartbeat away from the Presidency.

Last election, the Americans voted for someone they could sit and have a beer with. This time they’ll be voting for the Arctic Angel, defender of the oil industry and Alaska’s Mightiest Milf.

I’d laugh but it’s just not funny. Because choosing Sarah was purely a political manoeuvre, here’s hoping that he drops her as soon as he wins.

Something to Read . . .

There is an excellent article written in today’s Guardian by Paul Theroux. He talks about hunting and the Republicans and how . . . “hunting seems to define a certain species of American politician.” He also writes about Sarah Palin’s love of the mighty moose (especially if said moose’s innards are being boiled in her stewing-pan and it’s fur is draped over her sofa).

In his article, the writer quotes Henry David Thoreau and says . . .

“In one of the great passages in the Chesuncook chapter, Thoreau writes how the moose and the pine tree are linked in his mind. “A pine cut down, a dead pine, is no more a pine than a dead human carcass is a man.” And he anticipated the environmental movement when he spoke of the “petty and accidental uses” of whales and elephants, turned into “buttons and flageolets”. He continues: “Every creature is better alive than dead, men and moose and pine trees, and he who understands it aright will rather preserve life than destroy it.”

Well worth reading.

That’s it!

I have made a decision and I am unanimous. Well at least I would be if only circumstances would allow. I am going to give up work and be a stay-at-home mum. If only I could stay home every day my house would be spotlessly clean, my cluttered cupboards would be clutter-free and all my laundry would be laundered and put away instead of reaching the epic mountainous levels that they so regularly reach. My garden would be a green dream, my vegetables would be thriving and my herbs would be herbalicious. The interior of my car would be clean and people would stop thinking it was a mini skip. I would work-out every day, I would no longer neglect my beauty routine and my good looks would still look good. I would join the twittery “ladies who do lunch”, I would shop for designer bargains and I would browse around the local markets instead of stressing at the supermarket. I would give some time to a worthwhile charity. I would blog more. I would *do nothing* more.

Alas, it will have to be when I reach the official retirement age because we don’t have the luxury of choice. And also, there’s that recession thing lying in ambush waiting to attack. Yes, those who speak with forked tongue say that a recession is imminent and I haven’t a clue how it’s going to affect us so I’d better hang on to my job while it still exists.

But all week I have been desperately tempted to ring in work and request a duvet day. Only thing is, the NHS doesn’t do duvet days, not for medical staff anyway. So last night I was so excited at the prospect of having a Saturday morning lie-in, I could hardly sleep. For the last few Saturday’s I’ve had weddings or I’ve had to work or I’ve had to get my daughter to her dance class, blah, blah. But her dance classes have been re-arranged, it wasn’t my turn to work this week and there were no nonsense nuptials to attend. So today was my big lie-in day.

But no! It wasn’t to be. And guess what sabotaged my lie-in? A fly. A stupid little house-fly. It kept flying past my ears at a million miles an hour buzzing like crazy and the stupid little fecker even had the nerve to crash into my face once or twice which is quite startling when you’re mid-dream I can tell you. My son was playing Guitar Hero downstairs on his Wii and that didn’t keep me awake but a stupid little house-fly about 6mm long, flying around the room on a manic mission to punish me, managed to keep me awake and drag me out of my lovely warm bed.

If there is one creature that I can’t stand, it’s the house-fly - the Musca domestica. Now I understand that flies have their place in the ecosystem and all that (although I’d really like to know just what use they are to the planet) so I won’t kill them. But I can’t tolerate them being in the house. I just can’t. They paddle in dog faeces and they’re all buzzy and annoying. And they’re impossible to catch. I refuse to spray chemicals on any creature. I can scoop up the little spiders, I can cup my hands around the moths and I can catch the daddy-long-legs in a container. And then I safely put them outdoors (because if I didn’t, my two daughters would scream the place down). But flies, they have eyes and sensors all over their body. They must have or they wouldn’t see me sneaking up from behind with a sledgehammer plastic cup and evade capture.

Anyway, you’ll forgive all this incoherent rambling, won’t you? I’ve been spiking a temperature all night hence the delirium. Now I’m off to buy some fresh lemons to make some hot lemon juice for my cold. Although I suppose it’s rather too late now to dose up on the Vitamin C so I guess paracetamol will have to do.

TTFN

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