Ain’t no good thing ever dies…

When I was younger I didn’t wear a poppy, even though I was in the ATC and marched on Remembrance Sunday. I wore a white ribbon, I wore it all year round on my coat. I am, and always have been against war. I didn’t get into any arguments or discussions about why I didn’t wear a poppy, and no one ever challenged my ribbon. As I got older and more cynical about our country’s foreign policy, and read books by Pilger, Chomsky, and Monbiot et al, I realised a few things.

1. You don’t have to be pro war to remember the sacrifice that others have made in the past, for things they believed in.

2. The poppy and the ribbon are not mutually exclusive.

3. If you’re anti war you don’t have to wear a white ribbon.

An act of remembrance, however you do it, is a more effective way to prevent future wars, it galvanises us to lobby and vote in certain ways, to write to our MPs, to educate others and enter in discussion and argue our case.

What prompted this post was the increasing passive aggressive bullying that goes on in the realms of social media to wear a poppy. The argument goes that if you don’t wear one you’re somehow disrespecting our armed forces. I don’t accept this. We remember those who died in conflict, those that died to ensure we remained free. A big part of that freedom is the right to choose how and when to remember.

The most annoying aspect of this is blind shares and likes of right wing groups that have co opted the poppy to further their racist views. We’re in danger of applying the same racist connotations to the poppy that we have to the George Cross.

One of my relatives was an engineer, and instrumental in building the Spitfire. Tracy’s grandad carried his commanding officer through the jungles of Burma, saving his life. We both have good reason to remember that, and it doesn’t just happen on the 11th of November, it can happen on a warm spring morning when something on the news flashes an image in your head, or a throw away comment, a passage in a book…. Anything, at any time. We remember.

I wear a poppy, but I would never question anyone who doesn’t.

A pig, in a cage, on antibiotics

I remember “Way down” being on Totp. I was never a massive Elvis fan but this one must have moved my eleven year old self, because I taped it off the top 40. My gran passed the comment “oh, he must have recorded this before he died”. The sarcasm was palpable from the old fella, but my thought was about how old people perceive time. Maybe things aren’t linear for an eighty one year old woman, maybe she understood string theory or quantum mechanics? None of these things actually occurred to me at the time, I just thought it was a very odd thing to say. But, in a household where my mother tried for weeks to clean a shadow off the bathroom sink, I didn’t over think it. It did stick in my mind though, and I came to the conclusion it was just a woman who was born when Victoria was on the throne, trying to come to terms with a very confusing modern world. This made me ponder what my Elvis comment would be.

It may have something to do with these machines you get in your home that talk to you. You can ask them for cat food, or to dim your lights… I don’t have a cat, and good luck dimming the lights, if you look at these new style bulbs askew they fucking blow. This made me wonder what it could actually do for us. Our fridge isn’t connected to the internet, nor is our central heating. I can’t fucking abide the radio, and I’m not sure what else it can do… apart from report back all our habits to a company that will sell the info to a direct advertising company. TV adverts will be different for everyone in years to come, tailored to your last conversation… yeah, the one where you slag off half your family, berate certain friends for the crap wine they brought round, then have a conversation that would probably see you in court for slander and breaching at least five protected characteristics.

I think, for now, we’ll stick to getting off our arses to switch the lights off, going to the shop with a list and not having the radio on. That way we can talk about what we like and you’ll never know.

The most inept that ever slept

I’m not sure why just yet, but the comment box isn’t showing. However, you can comment by tapping the post title, that opens another version with a comment box at the bottom. You may need to log in the first time you write something, it’ll be worth it though. So much of our lives are centred around instant gratification, but some things are worth a little effort.

As you were.

Fishing for a good time…

Starts with throwing in your line.

I’m not sure why but I’ve got really fed up with facebook, we all use it for different reasons, and mine doesn’t fit with the way the app is evolving.

I used to blog years ago, they’re all still on the web if you know what to search for.

So, let’s see where this goes, at least only those who want to read will come here.

Here’s to a new coat of paint