Bitch on the Blog

June 27, 2016

Follow the leader. What leader?

Filed under: Atmosphere,Culture,Despair,Errors,Future,Integrity,Peace — bitchontheblog @ 10:28
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I came across a rather strange mention of me on someone else’s blog – something along the lines of “poor U(rsula). She seems to think it’s targeted at her”.

If that is what any reader has taken away from my last two posts then I have not only failed to express myself but I must appear more stupid than I flatter myself I am. Of course, brexit is not “targeted” at the likes of me. And, no doubt, the practical fallout for me personally will me minimal.

What I find a little bewildering that even my most consistent commentators didn’t have anything to say. Not one word of comfort, not even a grunt. Though by way of handing me a virtual tissue to wipe my tears both Ramana and Looney ticked the “liked” box. Good old Nick took pity on me and left a few words. So thanks for that. Anyway, has confirmed a long held belief: People don’t take to being flooded by someone else’s emotion. (or reason, come to think of it) . It’s ok. Just a little strange for someone like me who basically lives in the trenches of passion – mine and others.

What I meant to express was my dismay at a “mindset“, my huge and heartfelt upset at Britain going retrograde. Throwing it all away based on spurious reasons, and, worse, political intrigue. I didn’t call my last post “Shakespearean” for nothing. What is being played out here, and will be for a long time to come unless someone takes decisive action, is pure Stratford-upon-Avon. Except on that stage the curtain will fall and the audience goes back home, unharmed.

Brexit has the impact of living in a family and suddenly you don’t understand the dynamics of that family any longer. Say, your father bolts, your mother still wipes your nose, your brother takes to solitary fishing, your sister marries the man she least likes, the cat snarls at her best friend the dog, the dog comes to me because it’s also totally bewildered as to what the hell has happened. It’s a mess. Let me take the garbage out.

In the last three days I have read (as did the Angel), and we keep doing so, acres and acres and acres of analysis, opinion, prognosis. I am delighted at the many many eloquent, sometimes bordering on brilliant, writings by some of Britain’s finest brains.

And I am dismayed at some of the arguments of the blinkered total delusional Brexiters awaiting tomorrow’s paradise in Britain. Do wake up. Wishful thinking is one thing. A dream is another.

Some people (feeling a bit sheepish now) ticked ‘out’ for a joke because they believed Remain was a forgone conclusion. They now suffer what is so cutely called “buyer’s regret”. At least when you buy something you aren’t so sure off when you get home you can take it back, get a refund or at least an exchange. HA!

And those who advocate popcorn. Sure. Anyone outside the area (Britain and Europe affected more deeply than your scant glance will indicate), those of you who maybe not culturally well versed, aren’t too familiar with history, who don’t have to worry about their kids’ and future generations’ wellbeing – ENJOY.

Let’s go back to the dark ages. Don’t forget to bring a candle (and at least two matches).

U

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June 24, 2016

Shakespearean

You have to hand it to Britain: DIVIDED they stand.

This is personal, I make little claim on rhyme, reason or rationale. For that I am too upset. A snapshot in my time.

Having stocked up on an hour’s sleep before British voting closing at ten o’clock BST I turned on the TV (BBC1) at five minutes to ten.  Big Ben makes me quite emotional at the best of times. So when it chimed as voting booths closed I welled up a bit. Now? Now, my tears are rolling. Involuntarily. They just keep coming. They say there are five stages to grieving. Denial (in this case) was relatively short. Shock features majestically. Acceptance (the last stage)? I guess that will be a long time waiting.

After the future father of son proposed to me 26 March 1982 in Paris, I arrived in England 4 April 1982 for good. I have always been a foreigner – albeit a “well integrated” one. FOS saw to that. I couldn’t so much as open my mouth before he corrected any mistake my early shaky English made. And that includes apostrophes. Might sound harsh to some of you. It wasn’t. I am hugely grateful to him for his relentless pursuit of perfecting my English. Don’t laugh, and as an aside, it’s probably why I miss him most when – to this day – I have a question on where to insert a comma or what the plural of bonus is.

Where was I? Yes, a foreigner. Now? Now I am a true foreigner. An alien. For those of you musically inclined listen to Sting’s “An Englishman in New York”. A legal alien. The melody alone conveys all there is to know. And before any of you point this out to me: Yes, I am perfectly aware that here, in this post and in my heart, there is a soupcon of self pity. Not least because someone recommended to me (in a national newspaper), and as I don’t hold a British passport, to return to “whence you come from”. Sweet. Thirty four yours on.

Never mind. I will regain composure.

The result of this vote has opened a massive a can of worms too cramped to not spill. Whilst – to some extent – I do feel sorry for Cameron having to resign in such an undignified way, what he needs to ask himself why the hell he did authorize this referendum. So terribly terribly shortsighted.

Yes, I promised you a snapshot. And that why I’ll stop now. Otherwise this post will become an oversized oil painting. No, make that a bewildered Jackson Pollock. Not that I deaden any pain with whiskey.

U

June 22, 2016

My heart is aflutter

What a perverse world we live in.

Sweethearts, I do have butterflies in my stomach. I won’t think about it till the morning after the day before (make that Friday) but holy cow. Normally I don’t raise political issues in blogland and I am not doing so this minute but …

The sequence of events being that until a few weeks ago I paid sod all attention to the EU referendum. Sure, since I read the world’s press for both professional reasons and my private amusement I’d skim the headlines on the subject. Didn’t take any of it seriously. Of course, Britain would stay in. Why was this referendum called in the first place?

Till, one day, not so long ago I spoke to an Englishman. Him of the velvet, oh so soothing voice. Yes, Magpie, you. Oh my god. To understand – Magpie is measured. And told me in no uncertain terms that whatever the merits of staying in Europe that cat was by no means in the bag. Though I did vaguely poo poo his notion our conversation was enough to unsettle me slightly. Since when I bloody read anything coming my way on this whole disaster. It’s like scratching a scab on your knee after your ten year old self has fallen off the bike. Fascinating, yet totally self defeating. My gall bladder’s bile rising, my stomach feeling vaguely and permanently nauseous, my colon trying its best not to anchor me to the toilet, my brain calling for reason and calm.

Let’s leave aside that I don’t hold a British passport. So even after over thirty years living in this country I have no say. Doesn’t matter. What matters is the future. And that is – and here we are getting back to my first statement, namely, “perverse” – that the very group this will affect most, namely the under twenty five year olds are so dastardly lazy. They don’t give a shit about their own future and – guess what – a lot of them (though not all) will NOT vote. How did one of them say to me the other day: “I don’t give a toss one way or the other.” Pardon? One might, of course and at a push, argue NOT voting is part and parcel of democracy. However, my father instilled in me that NOT voting usually plays into the hands of those you want the least at the helm of your country.

And, if I believe everything I read – despite my best efforts not to, the loudest voting for EXIT are those who have had it all. Those past their sixties with mortgages paid off, sitting on a pile, pensions in place. What the hell do those of you in that position think you are doing for the future of your kids and their children, your grandchildren? To make a point? A cheap point at that, one which will cost future generations?

Why am I writing this now? The day before the day? Because I have just come across a “youngster” who at least will vote – if out. His brother (honestly the things people will freely tell me without much prompting) who is also voting OUT has put an obscene amount of money betting that Britain will stain IN. Perverse, or what?

Anyway, when he – not so tactfully – asked me how EXIT would affect me, foreigner after thirty years in this country, I told him truthfully: Ask me on Friday. I tend to cross bridges when I come to them. No point wasting energy on something that hasn’t happened yet. Try and tell that to my stomach.

At least the whole caboodle won’t affect the Angel. Whatever the outcome he holds the key (dual nationality) to what both Britain and Europe have to offer post referendum. And, yes, he will vote. And, to his credit, he sees both sides of the argument. However, in chime with the Libran he is you throw a pound on one side of the scales and a Euro on the other. And then see how it balances out.

You know what the biggest shame in all this is? Elements of Britain (obviously not all of the British but sometimes you do take a nation as a whole) have shown themselves from a truly ugly side. Namely immigration, immigration, immigration. It’s always the same. Look through history. You latch onto a minority group and blame them for the shortcomings of your own government’s policies. Yes, I know I am simplifying but that is precisely what the lowest common denominator of this country is doing: Throwing a whole populace to the dogs over some Angst over Polish people wiping old British bottoms in British care homes.

I do believe in damage limitation. However, Britain in the eyes of some of the world have done themselves huge damage. Regardless of how the referendum pans out. Empire – my foot!

So disappointed,

U

 

 

June 19, 2016

RIP

Filed under: Animals,Dizzy,Future,Kitchen — bitchontheblog @ 18:49
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I have my uses/come in useful.

Today, no shit, a neighbour (in terms of evolution she could be my daughter) knocked at my door. She was devastated. Once you get to bottom of hysteria all is well. She had no one, not even her brother or my son come to think of it, but me to turn to. How sweet is that? Thus I killed a mouse – in her kitchen. As Sundays go this one, well, let’s just say nature takes it course (or should that be “cause”). Yuk. At least it [the mouse] was small. And I didn’t hang about to relieve it of its misery.

U

June 18, 2016

Overlap

Filed under: Amusement,Friends,Happiness,Integrity,Observations,Psychology,Vicious — bitchontheblog @ 13:45
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Sweethearts, with the many many many subjects I feel like raising I chose this one for today’s breadcrumbs.

Are your feelings for someone influenced by the friends they keep? I know that last sentence is mildly convoluted but sometimes a knot is a knot.

Once upon a time (in my teens) I was part of three circles of friends. Yes, three. They couldn’t have been more different. None of them [circles that is] overlapping. And – by instinct – I kept it that way. The members of all three circles would have detested each other in equal measure. I am good that way – segregate as not to give cause for warfare (make that, in their cases, unreasonably sniping, sneering and abundance of unjustifiable arrogance). And yet, you know what – and it puts perspective on how we relate to each other – I was at home in every one of those circles.

Remember the initial question: Are your feelings for someone influenced by the friends they keep?

Ursula

 

 

June 8, 2016

Limitations

Filed under: Amusement,Children — bitchontheblog @ 15:28
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Last night Hillary Clinton said that Trump is “temperamentally unfit to be president”.

Leaving aside that I agree with her it set me thinking on what any of us are or not temperamentally suited to. My mother maintains to this day that I’d make a marvellous teacher. “You have the patience I don’t”, she used to say when it came to, say, my siblings. It’s true. I have the patience of a saint twinned. Give me a needle and a thread and I will do that camel thing the Bible mentions.

However, there is patience and there is patience. Some years ago, in one of my many madder moments, I thought it might be financially prudent to retrain as a plumber (their hourly charges eyewatering – daylight robbery; supply and demand and all that). So – as one does – I dipped my toe into a test drive. Dear dog in heaven. Patience doesn’t come into those diagrams. Spatial thinking does. And whilst I am a mean parker of cars in unlikely spaces I just couldn’t fathom my future life going round the bend. So that was that. I still come cheap.

Sweethearts, do tell me, what are you “temperamentally unfit” to do?

U

June 7, 2016

Afflicted

Filed under: Communication — bitchontheblog @ 10:35
Tags: , ,

Where monkeys throw banana skins at each other or just plain ignore the one on the tree next to you I communicate. Sometimes I wish I didn’t have the urge. I don’t mean communicate when it’s necessary to purchase a loaf of bread or tell someone that their zip is unzipped but communicate just for the sake of connecting with others.

That road is not paved, it’s not even gravelled, it’s a mud bath.

There are a few blogs I read not because they give me joy, enhance my day, enlighten me, make me think. Oh, no. I read them because the blogger annoys me. Intensely. Thus I have learned to keep myself to myself. As in: I don’t comment. Yes, Sweethearts, I, Ursula, do NOT comment on them. I just enjoy myself being annoyed, baffled, even angry at times. The Angel who thinks I am mad to put myself through the misery misses the point. Not only do you learn about the world by reading the frankly, and for many reasons, unpalatable; you also learn discipline, how to rein yourself in and, in my case, to accept that you can’t  reason with some people. They and their opinions are so cast in stone they should go to a sculptor’s yard and be chiselled into something becoming, pleasing the eye, the ear and, above all, making sense.

Top of my list are those who think that the frequent use of swearwords to underline their argument conveys meaning. Eff off, will you.

U

 

June 5, 2016

Primal

Just listened to the news. The script said: ” … the shark responsible for the attack …”.

Surely, an animal can’t be held “responsible” since the concept implies a conscience?

U

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