Did you know it snowed?

 Snow joke. I know it’s April Fools day but did you know? IT SNOWED.

Surely you did.

You stopped everything you were doing, ran to the window, pressed your nose against it, pushing everyone else out the way and. shouted, “Ooh, snow!”

Primary school teachers will think that this is unique to their class, who have suddenly become loud, excitable and unreachable, but they are wrong. This happened to adults too. Normally, sober, well behaved grown ups, who would normally hold their tongue on matters of weather, did the same. Those stuck in their bedrooms, still working remotely because their company decided to save on office space rent, had no one to hide their excitement from and people in the office are just giddy with excitement anyway, they’ve forgotten how to behave in front of people. Even the Long Suffering Husband, who is retired, with no golf games to play and instruction to get to make friends with the baby shark we have invited into our home, sent a video. People took to social media in droves to give their weather report and newsreaders were sent outside in the shorts and T-shirt they wore the day before, when the temperature reached 20 degrees, just to prove that we were right to shout,  ‘IT’S SNOWING’.

Now that it’s still really cold we will spend the day mourning that weekend of beautiful weather that we had forgotten was possible in England. We might tell stories of the Easter we remember it snowing or one that has been passed down in folklore. 

Our family April snow story is the 4th of April 1964. My parent’s wedding day and the photos show my grandma looking like a bear in a huge fur coat and my cousin in wellies and a balaclava. 

Dogs and shoes. Politicians and penises

 There are more things I don’t understand today. 

It doesn’t matter how toys you give a puppy, they always go back to the shoes. 

“Ooh, look,” they say, “look at those things moving around. I really must chase them and when they stop I  will steal them and kill them for you.”

It’s the same with politicians and penises. No matter how hard anyone works to remove the dicks from power it’s the thing they obsess over. Labour politicians are bad at the moment because they refuse to say that a woman is someone without a penis. You would think that this wouldn’t be controversial but we are living in changing times, where rights for people who don’t identify as the sex they were born in are trying to get some rights. Whatever they say would be wrong, according to some. Rights for transgendered people will, eventually, be good for everyone, if only they could stop obsessing over willies. In a world where the todger is king, it’s very hard for these men of power to think about anything else. It’s just like dogs and shoes. 

Weird Energy

There’s a very weird energy around at the moment. Maybe it’s because I’m focused on the small biting monster that has just come to live with us and I’m only getting news in snippets but there’s so much that just doesn’t make sense.

Putin has tied to make an ally of JK Rowling because she’s got a bee in her bonnet about transgender issues. Apparently, she’s been cancelled, even though she hasn’t (and thank God because by her keeping talking I have realised that I don’t agree with her)  This is despite her donating squillions to Ukrainian refugees and people are furious with her. They believe Putin. 

Nazanine Radcliffe was released after the government decided that paying the debt was necessary to get access to their oil and people were cross that she spoke. How dare she not be grateful? How dare she be cross that she’s missed 6 of her daughter’s formative years? How dare she look healthy?

Boris was criticised for standing awkwardly while being asked to wait for an awkward group photo. As much as I’d like a new Prime Minister this was a very unfair criticism. 

Rishi Sunak borrowed someone’s car to put petrol in for a photo (I hope he paid for it)  to show off his budget that highlights how none of us are going to be able to afford petrol or heating. He also bragged about all the different types of bread he has. His wife is also allowed to keep trading with Russia and no matter how skinny his trousers or how white his teeth, his popularity has plummeted. Now there’s nobody to take over from bumbling Boris, except Selfie-Truss and no one wants another woman.

Covid is over but everyone knows someone who is ill or has lost a grandparent to it in the last few weeks. Class sizes drop from 30 to 11 in a week. Hospitals, schools are impossible to staff. But it’s over. Ignore everything you were told at the beginning. 

In response to these difficulties, particularly as school attendance is at an all time low, the department of education have come up with a genius plan. Teachers will teach and help children who have fallen behind. Genius. If only schools had thought about that before. Maybe if they could deal with the number of people who are sick that might be possible.

Abramovich was poisoned when holding peace talks and keepie-uppie sessions between the Russians and the Ukrainians. Honestly, I don’t know. I’m as confused as you. 

It’s film award season where all of a sudden the tradition of gathering people in a room to tell them how shit they are, as human beings, before giving them something to dust has caused Will Smith to get caught out laughing at his wife, get angry and lamp the comedian around the head. The response from the world has been weird, as though it’s not possible for both men to be wrong. There are excuses for both of them. Will Smith stood up, cried, opened the abusers playbook and said, “It’s because of love.” If he didn’t love her so much he wouldn’t have had to get angry and hit out. Chris Rock has kept quiet but the world has decided that that one sentence, suggesting she could play a character with short hair was the most offensive thing said that night and he should be cancelled. I’m surprised that the couple weren’t more offended at all the digs about who each of them slept with outside their marriage but who knows which nerve a comedian might twang when the format is to ‘roast’ the people in the room. Angela Raynor is very excited because she thinks it meant that she can now slap Boris Johnson, rather than just shout at him. 

The metropolitan police have announced that they are going to issue the first fines for party gate to the low fruit. Did you know they had fruit at those parties? No me neither. That changes everything.

Just in case you are feeling overwhelmed by all this weird energy, I will leave you with a picture of a sleeping puppy.

Puppy

 I don’t have the energy for politics. 

I have a new puppy who doesn’t sleep. It’s exhausting. I can’t distract myself from my exhaustion with reading or knitting because he needs too much attention and his teeth are sharp. We’ve started calling him baby shark. So, in free seconds I look at Twitter and get politics in small biased bites. 

All I know is that they are lying. They need to stop using ‘the EU are bad’ excuse, we know that we fell for the Brexit line but now we are out of the EU any failures are their fault. Too late to blame those pesky Europeans or even lie about how much worse it would be with them because all we know is how bad it is here. Boris pulls stupid faces in inappropriate moments. Women are generally expected to be quiet and grateful and we’re not. 

I’m only grateful for the moments when I finally convince the pup that sleeping is a nice thing to do.

Question Time

 I know that nobody sane watches Question Time but I like to because it’s quite a good indicator of how people are feeling. It was Question Time that showed the popularity of Farage before he stooped to doing birthday videos your your mum. It was during a QT episode that I realised people liked Theresa May’s hostile environment immigration policy. On one Thursday evening I realised that people were going to vote for Brexit. Recently the audience have been booing whenever Boris’ name is mentioned. There’s still a tiny minority that feel sorry for him, as though he’s a cute little blond-haired blue-eyed six year old that’s got a bit frustrated because he can’t remember how to spell resign but they don’t speak up anymore.

Last night, a Ukrainian MP showed us how to remain dignified, while Max Hastings told us that he’d written a book, Wes Streeting tried to hold Suella Braveman to account on the conservative immigration policy and Rev Richard Coles poured his warm chocolate voice over the disagreements. 

The audience were not on Suella Braveman’s side. They want us to take refugees now. It’s a complete switch from two years ago and I can see why the government are confused. She got so cross that she threw the ‘what about Jeremy Corbyn’ line at Wes, which is a tactic I can see will only help Labour. If you liked Corbyn then having him mentioned helped and if you didn’t then you know that he has nothing to do with the leadership of the Labour Party. The audience weren’t convinced either and sucked air in through their teeth.  Then her temper threw her into lying mode. Well, I think she was lying. She said that her parents were refugees and because I love a human story and have a friend whose father was an ambassador in Uganda during Idi Armin’s genocide of the Indians I checked to see if they had arrived in the 1970s. However they didn’t. It was the sixties. Mother from Mauritius to become a nurse and father from Goa. That sounds like enconomic migrancy; coming to England for a better life, rather than fleeing terror and oppression but what do I know?

The worrying thing, though, about this Question Time episode, was the appetite for war.

“Why can’t we impose the no fly zone that Zelensky is asking for?”

“Let’s do it. I don’t see the problem.”

This worries me. Maybe people don’t really understand what imposing a no fly zone means.

It’s not as though Putin is going to say, “OK, you’ve said I can’t fly there, so I won’t.”

He still will and someone will shoot his plane down. Then he will be at war with whatever country did the shooting, meaning that our towns and cities could look like the pictures we are seeing from Kyiv and where would we go if the whole world is at war? Nowhere would be safe. 

We are already at war. We have chosen a side and are supplying support to that side but as soon as we enter a situation where we enforce a no fly zone we become a target.

I’m not sure I’m ready for that. 

What if Cassandra was right?

 Carole Cadwalladr is an investigative journalist who got a bee in her bonnet about Russian infiltration of our government. She was convinced that Russia were manipulating the UK, through social media, to vote Brexit and make the country weaker. She believed Nigel Farrage (and other unknown politicians, maybe including Boris) were in the pay of the Russians and the sole aim was to destabilise Europe. There was a suggestion that Trump was their man too.

When she broke the Cambridge Analytica/ Facebook story the knives were out for her. People called her a crazy cat woman and gave the impression that she had spent too long in the basement of a Guardian office and gone mad, seeing conspiracy everywhere. They called her Cassandra.

At the time, I thought this was a weird title to choose because in Greek Mythology, Cassandra was actually right. If only they’d listened to her.

She has been personally sued by businessman Aaron Banks (which is odd for a journalist, as the ultimate responsibility is the editor’s and the paper, as publisher) and after a 5 day trial we are now waiting to see what the Hight Court judgement is.

However, if she was right then history will say that Covid saved us. Russia didn’t mount their attack while Trump was still in power. It also happened after partygate , when the British public weren’t quite so trusting of Bojo’s ability to lead and even Sarah Vine was beginning to question her ex-husband’s sanity. Coronavirus might have derailed the division of Europe project. Maybe China didn’t really fancy sharing a bed with the Russians after all.

Obviously, this could be wrong and it’s all coincidence with no planning. Sailsbury poisonings were just a couple of tourists trying to visit a cathedral and not a chemical attack, Lebdev is a really nice chap with a villa in Italy, who uses his money to throw great parties. The prime minister having meetings with an ex KGB officer after ditching his security is nothing to worry about. It’s all perfectly fine

I wonder what the history books will say? Bloody Cassandra, being right again.

Some things I don’t understand

 I have been feeling quite confused lately. I think my brain worked so hard to understand things through Brexit and the pandemic that it just wants a rest but it’s not getting it. Now we have war brought to you by the same clowns that couldn’t order plastic gloves and aprons during an outbreak of a new and deadly virus; the same people that thought they could cancel their gym membership and still use the pool for free. That’s not fair, they didn’t bring us a war but there is a war and they have absolutely no idea how to manage it. I thought that listing the things I’m confused about might help.

1. Killing people is wrong. It’s murder, unless there’s a war then it’s perfectly fine and the more you kill the better, unless you lose, in which case you can be tried for war crimes because you murdered too many people. Wars against people that look like you are worse than wars against people with brown skin or different religions.

2. Nuclear weapons are meant to have prevented wars but seem to have given those that have them more confidence to start them and make other too frightened to stop them.

3. Sanctions: I understand nothing of sanctions. It’s a meaningless word. Is it the naughty step of war, for the hapless population that just happened to be sitting next to the naughty kid? 

4. Fuel rises are confusing. We only have 4% Russian oil but it’s having a big impact on our prices. Even companies that claim to only use renewable energy are putting prices up. 

5. Super yachts are something I’ve never understood but what will happen to the Oligarch’s yachts that the government has seized in sanctions? What I do know about boats is that they require a lot of maintenance and I’m not sure I trust the government to do that. Will there be a huge compensation bill from litigious Russians when it’s over and they have to give the barnacle encrusted shell back? “You broke my boat, give me a squillion pounds or I’ll tell people what you did with that ferret at Eton.”

6. The Met Police. Why do they keep making the worst PR mistakes ever? A vigil for a woman who was kidnapped, raped and murdered by a serving officer - arrest the peacefully protesting women. Squatters in an Oligarch’s empty London mansion, claiming to have secured it for Ukrainian refugees - more armed police than refugees that have been let in to the country and a speedier response time than for any other crime. Prime Minister breaking his own laws - investigate by sending a questionnaire to his clever lawyers and never tell anyone what they say.

7. People who think they understand what is going on. These people confuse me more than most and they can be so nasty. ‘It’s simple’, they say. ‘The meerkat is bad. Russians should all be shot. Fill your house with Ukrainians or you are a bad person too.’

8. The Russian Embassy in the UK’s Twitter account. It’s bonkers and beautiful at the same time. Sticking to the party line it looks deranged but then it posts pictures of a place I’ve always wanted to visit but been too scared by my conditioning as a teenager of the Eighties.

9. Elon Musk. The man has challenged Putin to a bundle outside the gates after school - winner gets Ukraine (which isn’t either of theirs to give)

10. Homes for Ukrainians. Is it me, or is this scheme ill thought out? Give someone your spare room (but don’t feed them) for at least six months but not more than three years. Ukrainians who live in this country, however, still can’t get their elderly parents to come and live with them unless they are prepared to pick fruit. What happens at the end of the war when children have been in school and parents have jobs? Will individuals be responsible for evicting them, or shopping them to the authorities if they don’t want to go back to a bombed out city that holds all their trauma?

11. What’s the difference between 3000 and 300000? What’s a few zeros between friends? Big numbers confuse people. That’s how they got Brexit through. You liked a big number lie before, why are you so upset now? Poor Michael Gove, it’s made him angry.

12. How can these government ministers lie so easily in parliament? I know that no one can call them liars but that’s because they are not meant to do it but it just falls out of their mouths. Untruth after porky,fable, fabrication, falsehood and complete bullshit.

13. Theresa May was not a Labour Home Secretary. Michael Gove, when he was announcing his homes for Ukrainians scheme and after he was challenged on the numbers  (being forced to correct the lie he’d told on TV) got very cross. “I’m fed up of people trying to suggest that this country is not generous,” he said, banging the pew with his fist. “And all this stuff about hostile environment,” he paused to wag his finger and go red in the face, “was invented under a Labour Home Secretary. So can we just chuck it with this partisan  nonsense and get on with delivering.” Ooh, he was very cross. The lie slipped out so easily. Hostile environment was invented

 by Theresa May in her Professor Umbridge phase in 2012. Its hard to remember because she looks sane now, in comparison but she was definitely a conservative Home Secretary.

14. Why do birds stop singing at exactly 6.03 every morning?

No idea what is going on

 Since yesterday’s blog, where I confessed to avoiding writing about the invasion of Ukraine by Russia because I was worried about my sense of humour feeling flippant, I have come to realise that laughter is the best weapon I have. These are scary times and even if it is a little disrespectful, a chuckle lightens the mood.

In light of that thought I’m going to share two things that made me laugh.

The first is the amazing spelling ability of people on Twitter. I’ve seen Ukrane, Ucrane, Ucrayne, Eucrain (which I’m sure is a skin ointment), Eukrane, Eucrayne and even variations of Youkraine. Britain has the literacy level of a six year old that has learnt how to spell with phonics rather than reading. Sound trumps vision. This wouldn’t be that surprising if people were just listening to the radio and tweeting their thoughts but I think most people watch the telly, where the name of the country runs along the bottom of the screen in blue and yellow. And what about their autocorrect? Did they override the suggested spelling of Ukraine or not notice that the little blue flag didn’t appear?  🇺🇦 I’m amused and truly baffled.

Then, after making a batch of scones for a concert and realising that I had blue tablecloths and yellow plates to match daffodils that are in season at the moment, worrying that I had accidentally made the Ukrainian flag, until my daughter pointed out that I could have accidentally made the Russian one, I turned on the TV for an evening of Stanley Tucci comfort.

Blunt-fringed mock comforter, Beth Rigby was interviewing the sack of crumpled cloth that we voted to be our Prime Minister. They appeared to be in an aircraft hanger and were far enough through the interview for Beth’s eyes to be doing a passable impression of that 1980s soft toy, Sad Sam. The words I heard though, were quite unbelievable. 

Beth: I’m sorry I didn’t mention it

Boris: (laughing)  I’m just going to slide it in there.

Beth: It’s going to hurt a lot of people.

I laughed but seriously, I have absolutely no idea what’s going on anymore.

I stand with

 I haven’t written much.

When I was at school I smashed a thermometer. Not on purpose. It was just a consequence of my extreme clumsiness. We all watched, fascinated as I pushed those little silver balls of liquid together and apart, not really being able to understand what they were or, with hindsight, how dangerous it was, despite the teacher nearly tripping, as she ran over, shouting. During this episode, one boy took the opportunity of the resulting chaos to lean across the solid wooden bench and place his mouth over the gas tap, which he had turned on first, sucking in enough hissing gas to make himself vomit. He had just chugged beaker of Ribena, so the resulting mess was truly terrifying and it was all my fault.

This is how I feel about Ukraine. I can’t quite work out what is going on. How can something so awful be happening?  We watch and all know it’s going to get worse. Do I nail my colours to the mast; have I got blue and yellow clothes? Do I stand with Ukraine? Who do I donate to? Is it time to offer my spare room to traumatised women and children? Do I urge our government to do more? Or do I caution them to step back and avoid poking the Russian bear (who seems to have completely lost his mind)?

I’ve often wondered what every day people thought about in the lead up to the Second World War but it’s clear that history chunks time into before and after but real time refuses to play that game. 

If normal people were like me then they were hoping it would all go away. Their hearts were breaking. They were scared and hoping for distraction.

I hadn’t written much at all because humour didn’t seem appropriate and I have no solutions to suggest. I grew up in an era where leaflets were dropped through the door warning us of Russians and their nuclear bombs. My dad knew that in the event of an attack he would be bricked into to telephone exchange communication bunker - he had been chosen - but shush don’t tell anyone - ‘I’ve signed the official secrets act.’ We had cartoons by the man who wrote the snowman about an old couple slowly dying in a nuclear attack.

We can talk about resilience all we like but when you are scared all you want to do is pretend nothing is happening. If you are an ordinary person, like me, then I can thoroughly recommend watching the Pottery Throwdown programme or Stanley Tucci in Italy.

I’m sorry that I’m not more of a role model but I don’t really want to fight anyone on the beaches, or anywhere else for that matter.

I would have followed the rules but…

 I would have followed the rules but *sly look to camera, brush hair from face, adjust polo neck* but I fell in love.

It’s an odd defence from a former health secretary that couldn’t follow his own rules during a pandemic but I totally understand where he’s coming from, and I would do a live telly interview too if I didn’t look terrible in a roll neck sweater.

You see, the same thing has happened to me. I know the rules. I made them. In our house we have pancakes for tea on Shrove Tuesday, never on Ash Wednesday. I’ll be honest, I know the rules. It’s one of mine but tonight I’ll be having pancakes because I didn’t eat any last night. The reason for my crime? I fell in love.

Yes, I know, it seems unlikely but it’s true.

 We had known each other since my Oxford days.

 Our holiday to Oxford was traumatic in more than the usual, campsite flooded/tent blew away kind. That did happen but we also visited some friends of my parents who had a water bed in a bedroom that definitely looked like a sex-cave and my sister lost her teddy, Mo on a park and ride bus. He was returned later but as we stood, her tears blending effortlessly with the rain my parents medicated us in the one they could get away with in the daytime. (Brandy in hot milk was a bedtime favourite - don’t judge - they were different times). So we stood under the bus shelter with a packet of brown chocolate buttons, guaranteed to melt in your mouth and not in your hand and I instantly felt better. If we didn’t  find Mo then my sister would get over it. If it never stopped raining it would be like every other holiday. If my mums friends were dodgy swinger types it didn’t matter because we would never have to see them again. If Woodstock was just a little village without any spiky-haired yellow birds then I could live with that. I had my packet of Minstrels and I was in love.

Since then, we’ve barely seen each other but there was a war and the Long Suffering Husband put a huge packet in the fridge, which despite not being the place to keep them, was mostly fine. I resisted the temptation for weeks and then yesterday, just as the packet was teaching me how to communicate with more empathy I fell in love all over again. Anyone who has been through this will know how painful it can be. You are not in control. You know it’s wrong but every time you pass each other you just have to put her inside your mouth. It makes for an uncomfortable working relationship but what can you do?

So, after a whole packet of Minstrels pancake day had to be postponed. I know I broke the rules but what can you do when it’s love?