Well... 2021, a year of relentless seething from me. So much so, I had to resort to silent seething sometimes lest Ms. Champion (who never ever ever remotely refers to herself like that) spat out her boiled egg and sourdough toast in exasperation. “I cannot hear what they are saying,” Ms. Champ will say. That’s right, the seething starts early in our house. Pretty much within minutes of hearing the first undercooked question on the Today programme. No one’s to blame, except everyone. The game’s up. Everytime the answer to what’s gone wrong here is how much taxpayer money the gov has thrown at it long since stopped sounding like an answer to me. Whatever’s been done with that money it's obviously not the answer since the matter persists so visibly or audibly - people are talking about it on the radio. Imagine if someone said, “This is so messed up. I am going to go directly from here and sort this out.”
The opposition endlessly discovers new ways to disappoint too. But Christ Almighty, upon hearing the suggestion of even a mildly progressive policy can the interlocutors come up with something more original than: i. how much will it cost, ii. where will the money come from. In Britain we have Wars in our back pocket, ready for everything and we never question the cost. What about a war on poverty or even maybe begin with a war on child poverty and don’t go round counting the cost of what it takes to get properly armed for it.
The phoney war on the BBC continues. If the Tories discern anything less than a 110% acquiescence, and actually that is pretty much all I hear, they regard the BBC not as an esteemed internationally revered institution, the best of Britain if you like, staffed by brilliantly talented professionals at every level, instead they’d have us believe that the BBC amounts to little more than a sort of samizdat newsletter for the disaffected, and about as much use to us.
Hey, that was just one morning last January.
In April, Daphne the kitten came to live with us. She’s kind of defective, and has cost a fair amount in antibiotic eye drops, but by December she’d shaped up, got a tie, and I think a plan to run for cat congress.
I didn’t get out that much. I Loved visiting the Observatory at Hermonstceaux in the summer, dressed ridiculously like Ancient Welles according to fam so much retro fun. Those crowds though were as big as I dared. I loved lavishing time on reading and writing. And before I go, thank you for the lovely response to the LP and short story collection I put out this year. “Surely the best yet?” Someone said at one point. Has me thinking truly the best, the better is yet to come.
I Got Brexit Done badges now half price at shop.conservative.com - discounts on Boris jigsaws coming soon, I’d think.
And 2022? Still holding the fantasy flame for a marginally better utopia. Liz Truss for Tory leader if she keeps polling so badly. Bring it on.
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