Looks like I posted too soon.
Now even Scaramucci is no more, rejected to mooch around somewhere else.
Looks like I posted too soon.
Now even Scaramucci is no more, rejected to mooch around somewhere else.
Last November it seemed almost unbelievable. This August, less than a year later, it is still unbelievable.
Donald Trump is President of the United States of America.
After all the jaw-dropping foolishness we saw during the US election, and the wicked bad-mouthing of his opponent, it seems to be beyond comprehension that The Donald is President. It seems incongruous that a man whose appeal can only be to the small-minded is in a high office once occupied by a man whose intellect was so great he seemed to think of everything before he even opened his mouth. He even made jokes, for heaven’s sakes, which seemed premeditated. What’s more, they were funny and we didn’t laugh at them out of politeness or nervousness.
True, a vote for The Donald’s chief opponent would have probably meant the retention of America’s status quo. And the election of a woman to “the highest office in the land” for the first time. But would that have been so bad? At least, we would’ve known where we stood.
A leap into the unknown
As it is, the election of The Donald was a leap into the unknown. And I don’t mean the kind of ‘unknown’ not known by Donald Rumsfeld. I mean the kind of ‘unknown’ we are currently experiencing; the unknown that creates uncertainty.
We don’t know, for example, from one week to the next, what The Donald will say or do tomorrow.
He could say he’s going to build a wall. But nothing seems to happen.
He could say the North Koreans threaten world stability. But they still launch nuclear missiles.
He could hire me tomorrow. But next week I could be fired.
While he is still there – and he may be there until 2024 – we should all be worried. His behaviour, and his decisions, are laughable but they all have their consequences. The great communicator, Anthony Scaramucci [the Mooch], might seem like a clown. But he’s a dangerous joker, capable of making his boss look positively benign.
The transatlantic view
On this side of the ocean, we can disbelieve what we hear, even laugh at The Donald.
But I would hate to be a liberal living in America now. I might even be ashamed of my country. I certainly would not want The Donald to be my President. Not for a moment longer.
However, I do not know who might take his place.
Change was needed, of that there is no doubt. The system had become atrophied. Obama could not get anything done, because the numbers in both houses were stacked against him. Everything was a compromise. A fresh approach was needed.
Goodness knows but that Britain needs a change! The current government is the same as its predecessor, in all but personnel.
But where are the men or women who can take the places of those that are in charge? Are we to have to carry on as usual, while our current ‘leaders’ (including Valdimir Putin and co) are there?
Few of us are leaders. Most of us prefer to be led. But not by people who say one thing, do another, and turn everything into a reflection of themselves and their so-called achievements.
We all need someone else ‘there’. Someone we can trust.
Years go – long before I was a boy – the Labour Movement was associated with cloth caps and handkerchiefs. One on your head and another round your neck was all you needed. That, and a coal-blackened face.
Nowadays, Labour represents a different kind of person. One who’s probably been to university, is well–educated and wouldn’t be seen dead in a cloth cap.
Yet the Tories don’t seem to have recognised this.
Only yesterday I saw a man – suited, scowling and briefcase in hand – who looked as if he despised the world, because it wasn’t peopled by his ‘type’.
But his ‘type’ is – to coin an election phrase of years ago – yesterday’s man.
Once the Tories wake up to the idea that the composition of Labour has changed, and that many younger people who once voted Tory now see Labour as representing the establishment, we may get a government that reflects the majority of the people and their views.
Until then, we must put up with stereotypes. And, it seems, mediocrity.
Several generations ago, Clement Attlee was the man. As common as muck, or so the Tories thought. Today it looks like Jeremy Corbyn is the name on everybody’s lips. As common as muck, or so many think.
Immediately after the Second World War, Attlee was elected as Prime Minister.
Who knows, but that Corbyn might be elected by the public, as Leader of the Labour Party and thus Prime Minister, immediately after the War of the Tories?
It certainly looks as if history will repeat itself.
I never thought I’d do it, but here I am, writing my first blog from Devon.
Leaving London after living there for more than 50 years was a wrench.
Having said that, I don’t miss the dirt, the crowds or the noise (all of which have increased over the years). Of course, I miss having galleries on my doorstep (or being able to go to one on a whim) and being able to go to the cinema without making it a planned activity based on bus timetables and what’s on. I miss living at the centre of national and international politics and debate. And I miss being able to shop for anything I’ve forgotten when I feel like it. I also miss some of the individuals I got to know (although many of them live, or lived, far from the centre of the action).
But, much more than generally speaking, life down here in Devon is far better than life up there in London. For one thing, the air is cleaner and it’s a great deal better to be woken by the squawk of seagulls – even though they still look bad-tempered and sound as if they’re laughing at me – or by the trilling of other birds than it is by the wail of sirens. I could do without the sound of the sea washing the pebbles clean each time it rushes out, instead of the swoosh of tyres on one of London’s wet main roads. But I can’t say I’d swap one for the other.
If I were many years younger, I would no doubt think differently. I would want something going on all the time; clubs or discos to go to nearby, more young people my age around and willing to do much the same things. But, as an older person, the quieter life down here is just what I want. Goodness me, I can even shop in peace and buy The Guardian!
Doing what they said
Of course, I’m not the only one leaving things behind.
Donald Trump promised much in his campaign, pedalling a brand of patriotic rhetoric that got him elected to the highest office in the so-called free world. But he’s dealing in international pragmatism nowadays. Hell (as they say over there), he’s even stopped talking about building a wall.
Theresa May sat so firmly on the fence during 2016’s European referendum debate, refusing to say which side she was on, she must’ve hurt herself. It must be the reason why, today, she wears an expression of permanent pain whenever she extols what’s become known as ‘a hard Brexit’. She even has to peddle the same line as those she was supposedly against.
No, I don’t miss any of what I left behind. I can pick and choose what I want to pay attention to. I can even follow the fortunes of my favourite top-of-the-pile football club! And I will, eventually, be able to live the life I want to, once all the material things to do with moving have been sorted out.
It was a good move. Maybe even one I should’ve made some time ago. But, ‘there is a tide in the affairs of men’.
Nearly six months now and I – like so many others – remain frustrated.
Why? Because no-one has yet resolved whether we’re In or Out of the European Union. If we’re In, what role do we have? And, if we’re Out, how will we live with the rest of the world?
On the In hand, we could look forward to being part of an admittedly flawed grouping of vaguely like-minded states. Growth would be slow, but it would at least be collective. Squabbling in the group would continue, but ultimately all arguments must end, and they usually do.
On the Out hand, we don’t know what to look forward to. Will our place in the world have changed that much? Will we, the UK, be a small trading nation having to make our way in the world much as Portugal might’ve done before it became part of the European Union?
The prospects are very confusing.
And they’re not made any the less so by the seeming inability of anyone anywhere to tell us what’s going on.
I know the UK voted on June 23 to Leave, but we still Remain. But in what guise?
It seems to me that we should have had an informed debate about the future of the UK before we were asked to vote, with everyone from all walks of life being asked to contribute to the discussion. That way we would have known what we were being asked to vote on. Instead, all we heard was people arguing about what kind of Europe – and thus, by extension, what kind of world – we would be living in, without considering whether or not we wanted to be In or Out of it.
As it was, no one really debated or discussed the relative merits of the European Union before we were asked whether or not we wanted to Remain in it or Leave it. They seemed to shout at one another, brandishing facts which have since proved unsustainable. It’s only now, after we have made an ill-informed decision, that Europe’s pros and cons are being fully aired. And it’s too late. We have decided. Leave is what we shall do, whether we like it or not.
The next few years are going to be regretful, that’s for sure.
Even now, some three almost four months since the UK voted, the Government still doesn’t know what to do about Europe.
The UK voted Out, that’s certain. Like people voting to die, we’ve queued up for the guillotine.
The Prime Minister either doesn’t know, or can’t know and – for sure – won’t say what’s next. She has her, no doubt, good reasons. But it looks as if the Government is out of control; like a driverless car careering down the MI, hell-bent on getting to London without really knowing where London is.
The feeling is, someone ought to take control. Or at least be seen to take control
People keep on asking: “What’s it going to mean?”
If I had the answer, I’d be able to make a bomb. But I don’t, so I can’t.
I was minded today to think I knew, but then Nicola Sturgeon was reported as saying the Scots might hold another referendum on whether or not they want to remain as part of the United Kingdom of Great Britain and Northern Ireland. If the Scots vote to leave, it will – of course – no longer be a United Kingdom. But that’s another story.
The governmet under the premiership of Theresa May has no ideas, either. Unless, that is, it has some ideas but is keeping quiet about them.
Asking us to vote in June was akin to asking a man if he wanted to die. Of course, he voted to live – but on his terms.
Now we are all going to die, victims of a vote which casts us out of a Union which we have enjoyed without realising we were in it. Out of it we shall feel the cold like someone cast out into a wintry street without an overcoat.
I guess that’s what it’s going to mean; not being in a club and feeling cold.
It’s over three months since a slim majority of the British people voted to leave the European Union.
Yet nothing has happened.
Instead, we sit at the edge of the ice pool, sipping tea while the representatives of some 30 countries mill around, debating with each other, sometimes shouting and all looking for a theme to unite them.
If we’re not careful, the ice will break, we shall all sink, and that will be the end of the European project.
It’s a frightening thought, even sitting on the edge.
We really ought to get on to dry land. But, at the moment, we don’t know what that land is like and how we will fare in it. We could easily be a forgotten people who made their way onto the land by accident.
We have to know what kind of country Britain wants to be, post European Union membership, before we can offer anything useful to those who are already on dry land.
It’s time, therefore, to make our minds up; for those who would be in charge to take responsibility for being in charge.
It’s a few weeks since Britain was asked to vote IN or OUT of the European Union, and we were given to expect swift action following the result.
Yet nothing has happened. We are as we were before: stuck in a land of uncertainty.
All that has changed is the leadership of the Conservative Party, and thus the Prime Minister. Where once we had an Old Etonian in charge, who rolled up his sleeves and wanted to be one of the blokes, we now have a well-dressed, state-educated woman in the post, who seems to want to be a lady.
All that has happened is that the government seems to have lurched to the right. The Prime Minister has voiced her support for grammar schools and her concern about the Chinese investment in our nuclear future, and the Transport Secretary has described as ‘militant’ those who would try to get a better deal for their members.
It seems that, if all that we see comes to pass, we shall be living in a land where the elite get all the top jobs (because they’ve been to a better school) and the rest are believed to be militant. Or, at least, malcontent.
Cameron has disappeared. Some say that June’s referendum on IN or OUT of Europe was called by him to placate the right wing of his party, and that he was convinced he and his beliefs would win. Now, it looks as if he left the job in an hurry because he didn’t want to have to clear up the mess he left behind, or be called on to deal with the big beasts of the right who would probably savage him. May was what the backbenchers would call “a safe pair of hands”, although she is best remembered for being a smart pair of shoes.
It also looks as if we don’t know where we’re going. Or with whom.
Isn’t it time someone – I don’t much mind who – told us a few truths about the future.
At present, we seem to be drifting, with a weakened currency and no political direction.