What
I Did On My Summer Holiday:
‘The
last man nearly ruined this place/he didn’t know what to do with it/if you
think this country’s bad off now/just wait till I get through with it’
-
From ‘Duck Soup’
Hello! And sorry it’s been so long since the last
post (six months to be precise). Let me
fill you in on what’s been happening.
I’ve
entered three short story competitions.
I’m still in one. One proved
extremely problematic, as the entry criteria stipulated ‘no sex, violence or
bad language’. Which was a bit of a
stretch for me; something akin to asking Van Gogh to paint without yellow. I’m really proud of them in any case, and
they will form a post-Brexit collection of short stories, called ‘Leaving’.
I’ve
rediscovered reading. I couldn’t read at
all last year, due to depression. This
year, so far I’ve read 33 books. Mainly old favourites, but I’ve had long
afternoons, sitting in the latent Devon heat, occasionally with a Lapford Sling
(a gin cocktail of my own invention).
Music is coming back slowly, but I’ve heard some great episodes of Desert Island Discs.
Oh
and Boris Johnson became Prime Minister.
Elected by 0.1% of the population, including teenagers.
Theresa
May subsumed her own opinions, to take power. She was always completely lacking
in the necessary skills (judgement, empathy, compassion) to succeed. Now, we have this buffoon-in-chief,
implementing a PR strategy known as ‘unlimited
rice pudding’. He’s not played ‘dead cat’ yet, which is Trump’s
favourite weapon. And the sad thing is: this was always going to happen.
I
predicted all of this (he says, sagely) in an article called The Second War in May 2015. I also called for a ‘radical socialist alternative’.
And we got Jeremy Corbyn. Now: I like Jeremy Corbyn. I think he’s a decent man. I joined The Labour Party. I attended a Corbyn rally. But when I saw Labour’s strategy on Brexit
was ‘do nothing and then actively assist
a right-wing government’, I decided enough was enough. I resigned, privately not publically and
despaired about the state of the country.
I worried about what was next.
But
no, I’m going to be optimistic. Not
about Brexit, which will be an unmitigated disaster. But isn’t it nice that The Tory Party has
made the last five years about themselves? And now the next three generations?
We are in the Brexit Endgame and The Avengers aren’t flying to the rescue. But we have every reason to be keep the
faith, some faith.
Art
reflects the times, as much as the human condition. I recently re-watched The Entertainer. It’s
bitter, bleak. But then again, it’s a
John Osbourne play. Archie Rice believes
in his country, more than he believes in himself. His country gives him the gift of the corpse
of his youngest son. A new version tours in the Autumn. Next year, An Inspector Calls is
touring. A young girl dies and everyone
is responsible. It seems that art is
giving us little reminders that the darkest times are about to fall and it is now
time to wake up.
I
also recently re-watched the Marx Brothers in Duck Soup. It’s Brexit in a
nutshell, though in America it’s been seen as a metaphor for Trump. If you’ve not seen it, the inept shyster
Rufus T Firefly takes control of the almost-bankrupt country of Freedonia and
declares war on neighbouring Sylvania. It ends in chaos. Sounds familiar?
And
I am warning you now, again: times will get dark. We all need to reach out to the person next
to us, go on a march, and donate to a foodbank… whatever. Because ultimately Trump, Johnson and Brexit
will fail; due to their own greed and their own stupidity. To quote Bette Midler, ‘When Trump says something’s boring, it means he can’t eat it, or he
can’t fuck it’.
As
someone once said, there is no alternative. Or maybe there is. On our Summer Holiday in the Basque country,
we visited the town of Sitges; which on road signs, describes itself as ‘Socialist, Feminist, Green And Anti-Fascist’. Maybe we should all move there. Or: we can stay here, with a positive passionate,
but not Panglossian state of mind.
No
circus, no Summer is forever.
