And the winner is....

 The voting is done. Hardly anyone under 50 bothered. The results have been written on a scrap of paper and handed to a journalist who has been eating sausage in a cup in a car park all night (This is what my daughter tells me happens in Nuneaton).  And the winner is....the Conservative party.

It’s not very surprising.

I want to be surprised and political commentators want to be surprised but we’re not. The timing of these votes is tricky and they’re not a general election. I would never vote for an independent in a general election but would I be behind getting my mate Kev on the local council? Yes, absolutely.  A vote that comes at the precise moment people are being given back freedoms isn’t likely to see the government doing that punished. Also, life changed so much recently and none of us are ready for any more change. Change is scary. 

Us humans don’t cope with fear very well. Most of us freeze.

The other reason that it’s not surprising is that most people’s political views are either left (people before money) or right (money before people) and those who vote right have an easy decision. The left vote is split by three credible parties. 

Then there was the leaving the European Union decision, which took votes from everyone. Now that the conservative party have embraced and ‘delivered’ that wish they have gained supporters from both sides. And a fake war with France in Jersey didn’t hurt to strengthen that cause.

There is also the issue that the Labour Party have been in opposition too long. This week’s Question Time was a depressing eye opener.

“I’m a Labour member and even I don’t know what Labour stand for,” said a young woman. Others agreed.

The Labour MP was visibly upset at every one of these suggestions. 

“But we have,” she said, “we’ve opposed the government on all these issues.”

That’s not quite the same as giving a clear message of what you are going to do. You can’t oppose the government if you are the government.

I hope the left get their act together soon because we really need a government that will put people first for a while. There needs to be more cooperation and less fighting and there is a desperate need to stop calling people stupid. 

It might be unfathomable how people can love Boris but it doesn’t make the people who do stupid. You might not understand why people wanted to leave the European Union but they had reasons that don’t make them idiots. It may look like the people of Basildon are fools but ... no sorry, even I can’t understand that. Labour in Basildon said, “We are going to spend £60million improving that concrete jungle town centre. We are going to turn it into a nice space, help the druggies to find a way out and do everything we can to make it nicer.” The conservatives said, “Nope. That’s a waste of money, everyone in Basildon is a hopeless waste of space there’s no point spending anything on them.” The people of Basildon decided they agreed with the conservatives. 

If I’m honest, I find it all very depressing. Politics is like the rain. None of us like it but we need it. 

Forget me nots to cheer myself up

Voting

 Did you vote? Were you alone? Did you go with your partner? Did you take your dog for the #DogsOutsidePollingStations shot?

Maybe you didn’t bother because you think your vote is worth nothing, or maybe you did a postal vote and missed the delights of Covid-unfriendly voting. 

This year, we voted in a portaloo and had to queue for the privilege. I confess that I have no idea who I voted for because the combination of being trapped in a portaloo  one way queue in a mask, being made to douse myself in a sticky substance that made me and the whole room smell like a hospital and being shouted at because I, apparently,  picked up two pencils are a combination for a perfect storm of brain holes. I honestly could have written on the paper, “I’m a nutcase, get me out of here.”

I voted after school. The Long Suffering Husband met me on the way and we took it in turns to hold the dog. We usually do go to vote at the same time and combine it with a dog walk for efficiency. However, there have been times when we were both so busy we would go separately. The LSH might have been playing golf after work and I might have had a rehearsal later in the evening, so we would have gone at different times. It wasn’t compulsory that we strolled up to the polling station, arm in arm.

Last night on the news we were treated to images of the top politicians going to vote. Nicola Sturgeon went on her own, wore yellow and banged on about Scottish Independence (which I’m really hoping the press will call Sexit. ) Kier Starmer and his wife walked up together like a normal couple, minus the dog. She looked a bit fed up. Cross that her schedule had to completely rearranged for a photo opportunity. We all know that top male politicians are incapable without their wives. Then there was Boris and Carrie.

It looks more odd as a moving image. Her arm stays straight and he is gripping her bicep.

 Man of the people who can’t even work out how to hold his wife’s hand so that it doesn’t look odd. However that doesn’t matter because he could eat a puppy and people will still vote for him. They love him and nobody knows what Labour stand for anymore. We really need a change of government. This one has been in too long and to get us out of the pandemic we need a government who is prepared to spend a bit of money on the public. When that’s done you can vote this lot back in to  sort  the finances out again. That’s how the system works but it looks like it’s broken.

So much so that in Hartlepool (traditionally Labour) not only have they voted in a conservative they also put up a huge inflatable Boris that makes him look like a cuddly teddy bear.

The self sabotage cruise

 “But I don’t want to go on a cruise,” I whined at the Long Suffering Husband after a zoom meeting with a historical murder writer.

“Oh, can we, though? Just once?” he pleaded, “I’d just like to try it.”

I felt sick at the thought. The idea of being trapped on something that makes me vomit doesn’t sound like my idea of fun.

However, the writer hadn’t been talking about cruising as a holiday. It was his life. He researched murders , wrote books and then gave talks on them, showing slides of the original documents to people who need distracting from trying to escape the boat by throwing themselves overboard. He seemed rather happy with this arrangement but the thought of any kind of book tour, especially one on a cruise leaves me cold. The idea of being entertained on a ship by being told about a woman who was murdered and pushed out of a port hole doesn’t seem very appealing either. He thought it was a great life and was particularly impressed with having a “captive audience.”

His work was interesting if, like me, you love a murder and get overly excited by a historical document. However, if you are also easily distracted, like me, then when it came to the end and you were given an opportunity to ask questions then all you could think to ask would be, “So, you live in Romsey, do you know my friends?” and “Is cruising compulsory  if you write a book?” 

I was a little embarrassed because I know that I’m the person in the group who has the kind of forensic approach to the research that could end up with a book and also the only person who is prepared to make up the bits that are missing. I have also committed to 500 words a day on my Emily project.

Yesterday, after being very grumpy at work (apologies to anyone I grumped at) and listening to the author talk about murder research I sat down to write 500 words. I wrote 50.

 I don’t want to go on a cruise. Don’t make me go on a cruise. I just want to write it down and get it out of my head.. If stopping Emily moaning on at me at 3am means going on a cruise then I’m afraid I’m just going to have to put up with it because I get sick on a canal boat.

Me, thinking about pushing Emily out of the porthole

I know this is self sabotage and that all I have to do is write it down. It never has to be sent to a publisher. I don’t have to go on a cruise. Just write it and stop being grumpy, woman!

Miss Polly

 EYFS are learning about People who help us and are on their second week of emergency services. Last week we had a great time making nee naw sounds and making a soundscape of a fire rescue. This week I thought we would look at the medical side of things. My planning brain immediately leaped to Miss Polly.

  

Nursery rhymes have a purpose in that they teach children the values of society but they do date and don’t necessarily get re-written. There’s currently a small war going on in the music teacher world over the fact that 10 little monkeys jumping on the bed has been mentioned on the model music curriculum. This is because it’s original version was ten little n******s, then when I was growing up was changed to Indians and was all about doing away with the pesky coloured people. As children we didn’t know what we were singing but I do remember a rather uncomfortable Brownie gang show where the song was acted out and the audience went silent. I’m in favour of adapting the song rather than forgetting it and I think it’s good to remind people that there have been some awful things done in the name of song. I quite like the monkey version because parents of all races refer to their naughty children as little monkeys and there is a lesson. Don’t jump on the bed because you’ll bump your head and the doctor will have to be called, who will then wag their finger at you.

Now that higher education funding for arts subjects has been cut by 50% we are going to have to get used to adapting old songs because there won’t be anyone, except the very rich (who probably still keep slaves) to write new ones.

I wasn’t going to write about that. I was only going to talk about how pathetic Miss Polly is as a rhyme for children now.

Miss Polly had a dolly who was sick, sick, sick.

Now, we all know this is terribly gendered. It’s not just Miss Polly who is responsible for the children’s health now. Master Freddy’s teddy could be quite ill too.

So she called for the doctor to come quick, quick,quick.

That’s amazing. You mean she didn’t get in a 45 minute telephone queue to be told by a snotty receptionist that there were no appointments left?

The doctor came with his bag and his hat.

A house call? My goodness. They only come out if you are actually dying and even then, in my experience they never wear a hat. They just look rather sad at their sudden lack of power.

And he knocked on the door with a rat-a-tat tat

Was the bell broken? What about that fancy door camera thing you have set to alert your iPhone whenever someone steps on your drive. Didn’t Alexa tell you that he was here? Also, most GPs are women aren’t they?

He looked at the dolly and he shook his head.

That’s about right. Doctors do shake their heads a lot. The last time I saw my GP she actually wagged her finger at me!

He said, “Miss Molly, put her straight to bed”

There nothing that shows how much health care has changed than that. No one puts a sick child to bed. Give them drugs, keep going, don’t miss a moment of school or get her back to nursery so that you can work.

He wrote on a paper for a pill, pill, pill.

That might still be true if it’s not something you can buy for yourself but much more likely to tell you to alternate Calpol and Neurofen with a lecture about how antibiotics don’t work for viruses.

I’ll be back in the morning with my Bill, Bill, Bill.

Luckily, in this country this doesn’t happen, yet but when it does I’m sure he’ll take contactlesss

Teaching music is a political nightmare. I wonder if it would be okay to sing Dem Bones instead?

National Disappointment

 Last week I wrote that we were all going to be slightly disappointed, whoever H turned out to be and I got that wrong. Most people were outraged. They expected better from Jed Mercurio. He’s a good writer, surely he could have written the ending everyone wants.

I am one of the few people that actually quite liked it. 

I feel I should whisper that or at least now run and hide. You are all going to be really cross with me. 

The thing is that endings are hard. Especially when everyone is so invested. And he wrote it at the beginning, before we all leapt in with our suggestions. 

It was the wee donkey.

@knitsOnStix nails the final scenes

I liked that. Police corruption isn’t a huge thing, it was just an act of bumbling incompetence, from someone who had been promoted to a position higher than his abilities.

People have said that it’s a reflection of the current government but it’s probably just a good observation of life.

I was a bit disappointed, at the point of the no comment scene but I was over it by the end. I think I’m one of those people that was just happy to be there. Glad to be invited. No expectations.

“Thank you for having me, it was a lovely party.”

Social events rarely live up to their expectations but you still have to say thank you. It would be rude to say, “Well that was a waste of time. I should have stayed at home with my book.”

I did think that witness protection looked lovely, which is an easy error for writers to make. They give their favourite characters happy endings that they might deserve but would never get in real life. I forgive him for that. 

We were supposed to be happy that the gang of three were back together but half the nation were cross that Chloe wasn’t somebody’s daughter and the other half furious that the trio didn’t even take her for a drink when she solved everything.

Whatever you thought about it. We have all been given a reminder that time spent watching telly is always wasted but oh how we love to waste our time.

The shopping trolley of truth

 There will be a lot of anger directed at the political editor of the BBC today. People don’t like her anyway. She’s a woman, has a Scottish accent and a wonky mouth. People accuse her of being pro-government. Other people accuse her of being anti. I guess this must mean that she’s neutral, or tries to be.

The problem with walking the neutrality line is that it can be confusing.

Anyway, she has written an article about Boris Johnson’s lying. She says that all politicians have a ‘complicated relationship’ with the truth.  but she has rarely met one that openly lies.

She says that they mis-direct and obfuscate (which is just what her article is doing). Boris is a master of baffling concealment with his large lexicon of words (or verbiage, as she calls it). Even the people who work with him find that by the time they’ve worked out what he’s saying he has left the room, she says. In the article she tells us that his staff refer to him by the shopping trolley emoji in WhatsApp messages.

Whatever you think about the Prime Minister this is a damning image. Shopping trolleys are full of holes and impossible to control. 

She concludes that he’s not actually lying because he has a weird selective memory where he genuinely can’t remember what he said a few days before.

You might read the article differently but I think it could be quite damaging. Who wants an out of control shopping trolley leading the country?

Conflicted

I watch my fair share of TV and film but I am appalling at knowing actors. Whatever I watch, the actor is the character. The Long Suffering Husband and my daughter laugh at me and say that I wouldn’t even know if it was Tom Cruise, which I deny, because Tom Cruise only plays Tom Cruise. 

This week has been particularly tiring and so I flopped in front of the TV each evening and watched the slightly creepy ITV drama about a pervy policeman, spying on women. I wasn’t particularly enjoying it. It felt a bit ‘off’ and I couldn’t explain why. I just didn’t like the policeman. He seemed sulky, spoilt and petulant. I wasn’t buying the story either. A woman had gone missing but that didn’t seem to be important in comparison with whether the sulky policeman could get his leg over the woman whose house he was using for surveillance. There was an episode every night, which is an unusual way of scheduling and I had watched Monday to Thursday. I knew this was foolish because the only two TV programmes that I never miss (Gardeners World and Have I Got News for You) are now both on at 9 o’clock on a Friday night. I’m already very cross about this as HIGNFY used to follow GW and I could watch Monty and (“Do you know me?”)  Hislop live. There was no way that a sulky,  voyeuristic policeman was going to win over my two favourite men. I was conflicted because I wasn’t sure if I cared enough to watch it at some other time.

Luckily, two brilliant Guardian journalists and twenty brave women made my decision for me.https://www.theguardian.com/culture/2021/apr/29/actor-noel-clarke-accused-of-groping-harassment-and-bullying-by-20-women Now, none of us have to watch the creepy guy watch naked women in a house opposite or have awkward inappropriate sex.

Reading the article is hard work. It’s compelling and sickening stuff. The kind of thing that women put up with because there no real way of stopping men like this. Even during the #MeToo movement he could continue his creepy, bullying behaviour - sexualising and degrading women, without any fear. Not only could he do it, he was praised and awarded for it. Upskirt shots? Oh that’s just reflecting society. It’s cool. Gratuitous female nudity? Edgy. Well done!

The women? The real women, having panic attacks until they turn blue and have an ambulance called for them? The women who feel uncomfortable at naked auditions (Naked auditions! Let that sink in)? The women filmed without consent? Oh, don’t worry about them. They don’t matter. It’s all about him and his ‘art’

How many times do we turn a blind eye to the creepy?

My daughter tells me that she deleted him from her Instagram contacts because he sent her a weird message. Just delete. Don’t make a fuss. Don’t say anything. Just keep quiet. Move on. Be glad it’s not you.

Some people were very cross that the last episode was cancelled (although it’s not really cancelled because it’s on ITV hub and so I still have the dilemma of whether to watch). Lynda1234 wrote, “CRAZY CRAZY CRAZY. IM FEWMIN. Viewpoint is a great show for a great actor. Whatever happened to instance (sic) until proved guilty?”

Now, this is the problem. It’s not actually a crime to shout at someone, or laugh at them, or take a picture of their knickers when they are drunk at a party and do a handstand. It’s not a crime to have nude women in films, or have sex scenes. It’s not illegal to whisper sexually suggestive comments in a colleague’s ear or cut dinner short with another colleague explaining that it’s because you want to have sex with them. It’s immoral but not illegal.

This can’t go to a court. None of the incidents would be taken seriously by the CPS. This is right. We can’t go round putting anyone who tells someone they think is attractive in prison. We can’t fine everyone who gets frustrated and shouts at an employee. We can’t prosecute anyone whose hand brushes the knee or thigh of someone they work with.

There will be no trial. No judge will let him off. It’s only public opinion that can do that. Wouldn’t it be nice if creepy men weren’t continually protected and covered up for? Especially the powerful ones that are abusing their power. Wouldn’t it be nice if public opinion shifted so much that we stopped rewarding creepy men and stopped blaming women for, well, just being there.

Men like Noel Clarke harm  all of us. Next time you want to flirt with someone it will be more difficult because of this man. Let’s stop making excuses for them.