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Showing posts from June, 2016

The Great Big Fall Out

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I was hoping not to blog about the aftermath of the referendum again but after a long journey to and from Scotland today I felt I had to. The Scottish journey (a swift reconnoitre to explore options in the event of a second independence referendum?) is probably irrelevant, save that it meant a lot of time was spent listening to the radio when I could hardly believe what I was hearing about recent hate crime, the recriminations and party games being played out at Westminster and now, of course, the young people of London have marched to the Houses of Parliament to show the strength of their upset. I can't say that the EU is something I feel any more passionate about than Jeremy Corbyn allegedly does. It's been around now so long, it's just a comfortable pair of carpet slippers and imagine having a referendum over those. Like most people I know, however, I could see that to try to unpick a system that we have lived by, built on and fully integrated into our busine

Summer Art and Gardens

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Whilst in London, the youngest and I took in the Summer Exhibition at the Royal Academy . It's a mixture of genres of contemporary art and as such challenges you to decide what it is that you like, rather than browsing a display exploring a common theme. That said the Large Weston Room had taken architecture as its theme and was certainly my favourite with drawings and models that clearly spoke and inspired, with an orderliness of thought and design that I inevitably find pleasing to the eye. Burlington House itself with the light cascading from its ceiling glass is the perfect home for the Royal Academy and its changing displays. It gives lie to the idea that 19th Century buildings are no longer suitable venues for modern day art. London, of course, is not only the home of world famous galleries but also parks and gardens. So why not indulge two interests in the same trip? Queen Mary's Gardens in Regent's Park proved to be another worthy destination not l

#More in Common

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Apart from the result, of course, there are two other worrying outcomes of the referendum. The first is the apparent total absence of any plan to implement an Out vote and since yesterday's announcement that he would be resigning, any visible leadership from the Prime Minister or indeed anyone in Government. The second is the indisputable fact that the outcome has legitimised divisions between the 51.9% who voted Out and the 48.1% who voted to remain, as well as between the various sectors of society. It is  only last week that an MP was brutally murdered outside her constituency surgery by a thug who from the name he gave to the Court subsequent to his arrest (Death to Traitors, Freedom for Britain) appears to think he was acting in Britain's interest. I have already blogged about the absurd unleashing of hatred as a result of the referendum campaign and remain concerned about living in a country where our fair and liberal values appear to be at risk or underm

Wrong Vibes

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I spent most of this week in London, rushing back by train on Thursday to the ballot box. The vibes in London, which has to be the greatest cosmopolitan city on Earth, were such that I was convinced that the result of the EU Referendum campaign would be a decisive vote for Remain.  Totally exhausted from the long days walking pavements (London may be cosmopolitan but its concrete slabs are hard on the soles), I did not have the energy to stay up late to watch the early results come in and instead got up at 6am to dash downstairs and seek confirmation of the result. Needless to say I was rendered speechless as shock gripped me and I realised that all the weeks of unsavoury rhetoric had not repulsed the electorate after all. An attempt to silence the extreme right in the Tory party had backfired and we are now committed to leaving the European Union after forty years. Apart from the lunatic fringe, nobody seemed to be celebrating, not even the victors. Reality suggested

A Second Anniversary

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Today marks two years since my final day at work . Hard to believe, it seems so long ago and no, I still wouldn't go back. Retirement is brilliant; it's like recovering all that time you had in your teenage years but never appreciated with the added benefit now of knowledge, wisdom and no summer exams to spoil it. Our plans are pretty much intact, save that weather and hospital appointments have to date impeded the intention to complete a circumnavigation of the British Isles and we may have to rethink exactly how sailing fits into retirement. We've both suffered from separate shoulder issues which, although now on the mend, have limited our  respective abilities to pull ropes and wind winches. So that is an area that certainly requires more consideration in the next few months. Further and whilst I still want to take that Interior Design Course, it has taken a back seat to enjoying all those bits of living that are in short supply when you are working. I h

A Distraction for a Wet Afternoon

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So how do you distract yourself on a wet and cool June day when, upon returning from the gym, you decide it's too unpleasant to step out further? How about donning a fleece to combat the temperature and then watching England and Wales battle it out on a football field in France, all from the comfort of your living room? Now I'm not  a great fan of international football, at least not when it gives rise to populist nationalism. However, after (to quote the Archbishop of Canterbury) "the inexcusable pandering to worries and prejudices that is giving legitimisation to racism" in the current referendum campaign, the football stadiums of Euro 2016 surely provide an ideal opportunity to demonstrate camaraderie between European nations both on and off the pitch. It's a shame therefore that there are some who are so vocal with their abuse and anti European sentiment.  The thugs waving England flags and behaving like hooligans on foreign soil demonstrate ex

Banal but Busy

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I would like to be able to tell you that my failure to post here of late has been attributable to an adventure in a far off and exotic location. Unfortunately I am not very good at telling lies and instead must confess that I have been lured into the awful trap that I have been looking to avoid since retiring; the one labelled routine and commitment. Twice weekly hospital visits to treat a longterm skin complaint have intervened, restricting our ability to "go with the flow" and causing a regular weekly pattern to emerge. Life has fallen into a regular cycle of exercise classes, Parish Council business and covering for absences at Save the Children's charity shop. My spare time has been whiled away in the garden or with a paint brush in hand if it has rained. Evenings have passed in a whirl of angry yelling at the television screen when yet another politician has come on to add to the appalling spin, populist innuendo and disgraceful arithmetic that has graced the