The Labour left announce that rather than addressing the media focused democracy and politically invisibility that ensured we paid for austerity, austerity will be permanent enough that they can continue to collect salaries after their newspapers die. Political Media Class, the new think tank to make sure you pay for the deficit and make sure Labour don’t have to stray into uncomfrotable territory. The Guardian won’t be making amends for waving in workfare, they’ll be consolidating power they had through a newspaper, into a thinktank.
I spent a weekend at the Toriest house, in the Toriest county, and I was reminded of two things.
1.) Condemnation of this government wasn’t a great leap for grassroots party members, they didn’t support Cameron and his lot before the election.
2.) The Tories do backstabbing more reliably and effectively than anyone else. It is rare that genuine consensus on anything political is found, when I visit that house. That weekend was surprising.
The national mood has been subject to a temporary boost, people really enjoyed the Olympics, people you never expected to hear discuss the omnium (because you didn’t know what an omnium was) have been glued to screens and Olympic mad. Boris and Cameron looked elated while they pretended party planning had been the job they were elected for…
We took time out, and the sun shone for a fortnight, while the field of play for autumn defined without our input.
I missed the Olympics, but there were no queues in London, which I rather enjoyed. I had friends and family and the Kent and Sussex coast to deliver a fortnight long soporific high, so didn’t turn to televised sport, but all in all it felt like the national mood lifted, even if it was temporary.
I fell in love with Margate and Broadstairs, and we discovered a band called the Lovely Eggs.
I discovered modern art is more fun with children. I took Rachel into the Turner Gallery in Margate, having read nothing about the Emin exhibition. Rachel was of the opinion that these could not possibly be drawings of people, as I silently was grateful that she had not seen what I had seen. We both laughed and agreed Tracy Emin couldn’t draw, and then on the way out I realised she clearly can draw. I had seen clearly what she had drawn and what was expressed in those lines. While Rachel saw nothing she recognised.
We went to the Tate Modern, and we walked down into The Tanks. Again, I was perplexed when we walked into a room lit red, with a woman’s voice speaking around us. Rachel whispered that I was supposed to lie down and let the voice wash over me and hypnotise me, and she was right. The voice said things which slightly changed the way I view the world. We stayed there for quite a while. She thought the painting gallery was for the children’s work, but she really liked it… Also she liked the London town hall clock…
Dear A Level result getters. Ignore the media, they are just jealous because you are young and clever. If you didn’t do as well as you hoped, is alright, largely doesn’t matter in scheme of things. If you are a teacher fearing for your skin- fuck em, concentrate on teaching, nothing you ever do will be good enough anyway.
Discussing nationalisation of RBS, as a way of supporting small businesses, while rolling out a Universal Credit project that demands they close down if not profitable in this economy, is absurd.
And a sign of how fucked our political, media and finance establishment are.
This is a post I will probably expand on when I get back from holiday. But first I have to grasp that even though I quite literally spent the year building(with bare hands) the ability to do small scale manufacturing, and every spare penny I had, after my career was taken, and while state support is being used to punish and displace, only to find my biggest threat is still the fucking government., As I am very very tired, I am going to leave it till I get back.