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This was going to be a light post-Valentine’s Day wander around love, in love, no cards but I don’t care. You know, the whinger without much to whinge about sort of thing.

But I can’t do that now. Because, once again, a young man with a problem to resolve decided to use a semi-automatic weapon in a school as his means of expression and disaffection.

The safety of school children will be the priority for the US government. So says the President. So it must be true. And wasn’t that true before this time, and every other time.

And one of the surviving students stated that if there were more guns on campus the ‘shooter’ would have been stopped sooner.  So, one more death for a few less.

The commentators brush off the old discussion points – the right to bear arms, the love of the gun in the US, the need to be able to defend yourself against …. the state? An invader? Another person with a gun?

And the innocent keep dying. And the NSA keeps paying millions into political and politicians’ funds to keep the status quo. Because a dollar is more valuable than a life.

Except it’s not just a life, it is the lives of all those around that one. And that multiplies exponentially with every mass shooting that happens.

The immorality of the US gun laws – or total lack of them – is clear and evident, and yet it really doesn’t matter. Because power requires the status quo.

We spend a good deal of our time criticising countries around the world for their various and varied restrictions on people’s rights and freedoms. We complain regarding mistreatment and the lack of human rights, and even impose a variety of sanctions to pressurise them into change.

Well, 17 people had their human rights destroyed this week, and the power brokers in the US do not intend to do anything about it.

And that is abuse. A gross violation of the right to live.

Time to sanction. Time to boycott. Time to call in the debts.

Time to tell the powers that be in the US that we are not friends with any government that allows the murder of innocents.

Pointless? Maybe. Effective? Probably not.

Right? Yes.

Those that know me, or at least those unfortunate enough to have known me for some time, will acknowledge that I am not prone to the ‘faith rather than fact’ side of life.

I am not foolish enough to state that, if I can’t see it or touch it, therefore it doesn’t exist. Apart from anything else, I am too lazy for that.

Nor would I claim to know, or have access to the absolute knowledge, of everything knowable. Once again, much too lazy. Maybe after the rugby season is finished.

But, in general terms, I accept that people have religious beliefs, but they are not mine. I accept that people feel linked to powers and forces that help them shape their approach to life. I do not feel the mental or physical buzz they do.

And before you jump to any conclusions, I am not saying they are wrong. I am just not with them.

And I don’t see it as a lessening of myself, or my appreciation of what I have. Or a narrowing of the possibilities of the endless variations that are tomorrow.

So, when I come upon something I can’t explain, I don’t mind. I really don’t mind. I can search for an answer, either by myself, or through the search of others. But not having an answer to everything is O.K.

However, when something happens that contradicts everything that makes sense, that defies rational explanation, then I am forced to frown, a little.

I accept the basic principle that energy exists, and continues. In different forms, it carries on. So far so good.

So, the principle of a past life’s energy re-emerging has a theoretical possibility. But not one I have ever held onto. Too many variables – and not enough magnetism!

So, here is my dilemma.

I have known someone for 3 or 4 years. The meeting was certainly emotionally charged, but not enough to fracture a timeline. And, although that first meeting has led to a deep and special part of my life, it is the additional feelings I can’t quite get a grip on.

The only way I can explain feeling slightly befuddled is because, from where I sit, getting to a point of trust and understanding usually takes a lot longer. And the link feels old. Not tired, just old.

Or maybe I am just getting less cynical.

This could ruin my street cred. Grumpy old men don’t go along the past life route. And I promise it won’t happen again.

But it is strange, nonetheless.

I suppose it didn’t bode well when the new year was seen in with a mishmash of extremely unhappy stomach, a touch of fever and an aversion to stepping outside the front door.

Of course, with a cynicism born of too many years of failed New Year resolutions, that was not considered as an option this time round.

And how has it panned out?

You will be shocked to learn that the click of a calendar from one year to the next had absolutely no effect on what the world’s top dickheads were up to.

It’s as if they didn’t even notice. Or care, either about the New Year, or about the rest of us for that matter.

Maintaining their hold on power, through whatever bigotry, banality, bribery or total bullshit works best, is still their modus operandi.

And so we carry on, regardless of them rather than because of them. And hope that something, somewhere will adjust enough to let us through.

And another sign of age arrives to cheer. One Sunday a cataract decided to turn the left eye very frosted. A pirate without a patch. Gratitude to an exceptional Eye Hospital in Bristol is unbounded. Just waiting for the op.

But, it throws up the flag of more years gone than are to come, and as I have been unable to find the funny side of it, and I have tried, it sits like a leaden lump on the sunshine that is still there from time to time.

And then I look, with my one good eye, at everything around me. And I wonder why.

Why allow a small thing become such a large drag? Why allow a small group of people turn Monday to Friday into a drain?

Why should a truly exceptional and singular person be required to bear so much? Why can’t the shite be shared more fairly between us all? And definitely more amongst those determined to make their lives better at our expense.

And the cycle begins again. Anger at the unfairness. Frustration and impotence because what should be is beyond my power and influence.

And then the sunshine flashes through, and the enduring spirit of others shames me into realising that there will always be tomorrow. Until there isn’t.

So, wasting the time with anger, frustration and feelings of impotency get me angry.

I should take a lesson from a diminutive ‘niece’, and try just saying “No!” repeatedly. To everything.

Except the good that comes from those who hold my heart.

Tricky thing this miserable attitude. Something always comes along to make me look slightly ridiculous.

Now all I need is a red nose and a pair of oversized shoes. And a car horn.

I am beginning to wonder if I am living in an adjacent universe where the concept of acknowledged responsibility has faded into the swirling ether of time.

I am fairly sure, in the not too distant past, that public servants, especially senior ones, were obliged to ‘step down to spend more time with their family’ when they had been caught out.

And, I know that, in the explosive expositions after Weinstein there were a goodly number named and shamed, although no prosecutions as yet I notice.

But, that was a bright spark in the midst of the darkest period of non-acceptance of guilt for many a year.

Where shall we start?

David Davis, the leading figure for us in the Brexit negotiations. He stated last year that he had instigated a large number – 47 I think – detailed risk assessments to evaluate the potential ramifications of the Brexit process for every sector of industry, whether hard, soft or vaguely squidgy.

When, in passing, he later said that, actually that hadn’t been done, not even one, the more naive amongst us would have thought that an ‘untruth’ that large would be enough to see him forever dismissed to the backwaters of the back benches.

Not a chance.

Boris Johnson, the shining light of the ‘£350 million of ex-EU money a week to go to the NHS’ bus banner. He has just emerged from whichever cupboard his struggling minders have had him hidden in to reduce the embarrassment quotient, to state that ‘we’ – please note the collective – underestimated the cost of leaving the EU.

Was he at the very least shamed by his earlier pontificating bullshit?

Not a chance.

Donald Trump, the most ridiculous thing to come out of the US since ‘whole chicken in a tin’. The White House medical expert has stated that he is in good health and of sound mind. A stable genius. As a senior naval officer said so we are obliged to believe him. Aren’t we?

If that is the case, then why is Trump still there? Senility, insanity, crass stupidity were all totally acceptable excuses for his words, actions, and the actions of his thumbs. But sanity means only one thing – we are in very great danger. Because people chose him, not knowing whether he was with us, or the bright orange fairies.

Apart from possible impeachment, will he leave of his own accord?

Not a chance.

To say that I am a tad disappointed with this particular universe is an understatement.

If you want me, I will be trying the next one over.

You will not be surprised to know that, as a long-stumbling, jaded and beaten down Socialist, I have problems with the apparent advantages of private companies being heavily involved in public service provision.

The assumption that the profit motive guarantees efficiency has always struck me as inherently false, and I am yet to be convinced otherwise.

Likewise, the assumption that public sector organisations cannot operate efficiently is proved wrong on a daily basis. And, just remind me, when did a state-run industry cause an international banking crisis?

And yet the attitudes still persist. Even with the latest catastrophe to hit.

The scapegoats have been released, skittishly frolicking in the fields of accusation, and counter accusation.

The Government shouldn’t have continued to allocate contracts to Carillion because of financial warnings, even though to do so would be illegal. There seem to be revelations emerging of the standard ‘noses in the trough’ behaviour amongst senior executives.

But, amidst all the initial concerns about continued service provision, attempting to minimise the negative fall-out – which will severe over time, and throwing copious handfuls of mud wherever the inquisitor thinks it may stick, one group wanders through unscathed.

Actually, significantly better off.

Carillion and / or the Government may have been incompetent, stupid or politically misguided, but there are fund managers who have made a killing.

The fact that they were gambling on Carillion collapsing in order to make money, which it did and which they have, is unsavoury in the extreme. It stinks. It is the modern equivalent of the Roman Arena, with gladiators against unarmed or untrained slaves and prisoners.

This is the same lack of conscience within the financial industry that led to the collapse in 2008. And although it has been mentioned in news reports, it has only been raised as an indication that something was wrong that the government should have noted.

No. It is, in itself, what is wrong. Money without thought for the repercussions.

This is the world that we live in. Supported, even praised, by the present administration.

The smell of rot is getting stronger, but a lack of conscience goes with a lack of smell.

I am recovering from a brief retreat to a dark room after writing that title. But hey, it might be true.

Consider, as an example, his calm and measured approach to North Korea. Okay, accepting that North Korea’s leadership model is not based on the soundest foundations, nevertheless, dear Donald’s responses, both verbal and Twitter based, have not been overtly diplomatic.

Whether in front of his domestic media, or in front of the world at the UN, and certainly in the early hours missives into the ether of the web, DT has not been slow to present his opinion of his opposite number on the Korean peninsula.

And it would seem that, with the insanity – I choose the word carefully – of the rants, the two sides of the 38th parallel have decided that it’s time to talk. Face to face. Without an orange at third base.

Perhaps we can join some other dots. From the ‘pussy-grabbing’ recording released during the election campaign, and the resultant activism, predominantly from women, to the public admissions and condemnations of known behaviour within the entertainment industry.

Is it a stretch to say that Trump’s initial step too far saw the door jammed open, allowing the shame to stagger into the light? It might be, but his behaviour was a trigger for action amongst many who would never have left the couch.

It is, as yet, too early to see how the decision to move the US embassy to Jerusalem will play out. But it has certainly presented clarity to the sides. Perhaps it will be the small stick that breaks the camel’s back of deadlock.

My vague hope is that the more he tries to break, the more the opposition will build, and the more complete the reversal of direction.

Would that we could say the same for the UK.

Unfortunately, with a few cartoon, or old children’s comic, exceptions, the Tories present a less obvious odiousness and crass stupidity.

This of course means they are more dangerous. By appearing almost human, they can oversee the grand destruction of a country’s rights, equalities and freedoms.

And nobody is reporting the shouts of horror.

We need a Donald Trump.

I now need another lie down.

Perchance due to a residual fever after the norovirus diet over Christmas, I must admit to not feeling exactly thrilled at the imminent year turning.

However, if it means saying farewell to 2017, I am willing to try a little speculative future projections.

This is going to be suitably short and sweet, which will be a blessing for my few dedicated readers.

To those who hold the power in this country, close your mouths and open your eyes. There are more people, families than ever who are struggling, suffering, losing. Drop the ego, drop the smug superiority, and do the job you are paid to do – looking after ALL the people in the UK.

To those who hold, and wield, power around the world, close your mouths and open your eyes. You may have gripes, grudges, even justifiable complaints, or just the arrogance of an assumed right over others. Is there ever going to be a day when a life is more important than your dubious and destructive agenda? Read your history, and if you care for no-one else, care for your own people. because they are suffering too.

To those who use their power to use and abuse others, close your mouths and open your eyes. Because we see you, so you need to see yourselves. And those who say ‘I never did’, you need to re-assess. and listen, and accept.

And to all those extra-ordinary ordinary souls, open your eyes, and open your mouths wide. And shout, loud and clear. The answer is no!

And to the people I hold dear, and love, and respect? It will never be enough, but you have, and will have, all that I have that will be your support, or companion, or vague amusement. With gin!

So, farewell and fuck off 2017.

2018 – good luck! You are going to need it.

Tradition dictates that this is the time, between the joyful, familial excesses of Christmas, and the theoretical fresh start of the New Year, when assessments are made, calculations of pluses and minuses are totted up, decisions for change and progression are taken – allegedly.

So, let’s have a look at what the year has given us. Actually, second thoughts, how about we leave the details of the macro-shite to others, and look at the micro-lights a little closer to home.

I mean, who the hell wants to rehash the psychotic roller coaster of the bright orange leader of the free world, and his attempts to start World War 3 with North Korea, or by proxy in any of a number of areas of the Middle East – take your pick.

Never mind the other proxy wars going on, innocents being used as base fodder for international un-diplomatic dick-waving. And just to add to the messy mix, nature throws in any number of curve balls just to add some diverse colour.

And domestic joy has been unconfined, with inequality and unfairness expanding under our noses while we are distracted by the self-serving machinations of stroppy egos, more concerned about power retention  at any cost than justice, compassion, equality.

But we won’t talk about any of that, because I will just get angry. very, very angry.

So, home sweet home. And actually, yes it is – albeit in need of a new roof, but that is a different story. I will soon be celebrating my first anniversary of moving to the seaside – estuary-side?

I feel at home, the beard is keeping my neck warm for the winter, and I actually feel that I can make a positive contribution to the town. Such arrogance, but it feels good, so I am sticking to it.

There are strangers from this year who I now hold as dear, individual, idiosyncratic and all together awesome friends. Each has brought something new, singular, and enriching to my life. And there is one person I owe for the introduction to them all. Hey, someone has to take the blame.

I have a son who seems to have got his life sorted. Ex-Olympic Village flat, job and life and friends in the Big Smoke. Another 50 years and I will completely stop worrying about him.

And that friend of mine who stands on cliffs? Well, she is still there. The climb was going pretty well, slowly and annoyingly, but definitely in the right direction. And then pebbles, gathering from the past, decided to throw up another cliff, steep and sharp and totally unnecessary.

And yet she is still climbing, and maybe stronger than ever. Differently maybe, but stronger. And all those who hold the ropes that support her are still there, and each is holding tight. And some more have been added. And we are all proud to be there. And her partner and her daughter both hold the thickest ropes.

Finally, as a step towards the de-cluttering principle of this time of year I have dumped a couple of people from Facebook. This sounds, especially to me, as a slightly odd statement, because it is only fairy recently that I have realised the value that comes with a Facebook community. But what I had suspected before, and have had confirmed, is that it can be a negative. So I have removed.

And it feels good. Negative is a waste of energy. And we will need all we have for the new year.

It’s not going to be easy, and there will be much that is totally and completely crap, but….

There will also be good stuff, with good people. Moments of shear brightness.

And with luck, that will balance it in the right direction.

 

The temperature levels are dropping, it is dark by 5.00 pm, the John Lewis Christmas advert arrives this evening. It’s that time of year again.

But the universe will insist on balance, and is busy trying to take the shine off any emerging seasonal glitter.

Wherever you look, the spoilers are out in force.

Mass shooting after mass shooting in the US, not acts of terrorism because the shooters were white, and definitely nothing to do, in any way whatsoever, to do with the distinct lack of gun control.

The bright orange ‘Leader of the Free World’ running diplomacy from his Twitter account, and behaving like an over-indulged brat, with no idea of the definition of repercussions.

And policy on the hoof seems to be the order of the day.

Whether it’s the playground president, or our very own, now ex, Secretary of State for International Development, personal ambition, and agendas hidden or public, seem to be how things are done.

Then there is the teflon-coated Foreign Secretary, whose regular blunders, gaffs, ‘banter’, ‘that’s just Boris being Boris’, cause regular scares but never seem to be enough to convince the PM that he is a self-serving, arrogant buffoon.

And only one of those has gone. So far.

And, further along the continuum is the sleaze-fest that is the ripples from Weinstein and the Westminster bubble getting mightily pricked – and I chose that word carefully.

At the other end, and closest to me, are those I know, those I care about, those I hold dear and next to my heart, who have been suffering, and are suffering, and are being punished for no reason, except they are good people.

And it makes me angry, and monumentally pissed off, and everything in between.

But, and it is a huge but, I am so grateful to know them, and have them in my life, and be part of theirs.

Even if I am helpless to reduce the piles of crap they have to deal with, I will be beside them when it helps, and even when it doesn’t. Past master at standing in the way, me!

So, this season will be made jolly by those I know and love, and not screwed up by those I view from afar with distaste.

Ho Ho Ho!

With the hundredth anniversary of the Balfour Declaration – few words, infinite ripples – I found myself, again, trying to square the circle of my feelings regarding Israel.

Born a Jew, brought up a Jew, although not in an extremely strictly adherent way – who can deny a bacon sandwich, or crackling, or lobster on a bbq – the default position was always that Israel should exist.

And even though the religious observances and beliefs have long gone, being a Jew is more than a belief system. It has always been more of a commonality of race, although not defined by geography. Except that Israel existed as the ‘spiritual’ home.

And that identity, that connection throughout the diaspora, has always been a part of my self. And the continued strength of that world-wide connection is, in no small part, due to the adversity that centuries have inflicted on Jews throughout the world.

I have visited Israel twice, and may do so again. And each time, along with the family that I have there, was a feeling that, although I would never live there, that it was in some way a part of me. A right by association. Which I suppose is what nationality is.

And that feeling, of belonging and ownership, still remains. But there is so much else besides.

The theory, the principle of a Jewish home in Israel is hard to dismiss, and the historical and religious qualifiers are undeniable. Although I suppose some will always try.

And the positive and tangible results are impressive.

And the negatives are depressing, and saddening, and unnecessary, and unacceptable.

No-one should have to live in fear. Not even for one day, never mind every day. And since 1948 that has been the lot of the Israeli people, from their immediate neighbours, and further afield.

Circumstances have changed. Accommodations of various sorts have been reached with the immediate neighbours, and whilst noises from slightly further away still threaten, they are as much an element of proxy posturing as is the bloodier indirect conflict between the USA and Russia on Syrian soil.

But, and it is a huge and immovable but in my heart, along with my love for and of Israel, there is also shame and anger.

And that is because, although one element of the Balfour Declaration has come to its own reality, the other major element has been trampled over, ground down and ignored.

The treatment of the Palestinians has been, and is, a dishonour on the rightness of the existence of the state of Israel.

And, of any nationality in this world, the Israeli people, more than any other, should understand how wrong the treatment of the Palestinians has been, and continues to be.

If you want to create a cohesive, antagonistic group, you treat them badly. You ignore the rule of law, you ignore decency, you ignore human rights, you ignore history.

Of course, the guilt doesn’t lie with every Israeli, and certainly not with every Jew. But the guilt for the ongoing strife in the region, and the continued anti-semitic activities around the world, is on the hands of those in power, both in Israel, and the countries that support it.

Israel as a nation exists, and should continue to do so. And it should do so as an exemplar of everything that is positive in a vibrant, and still young country, that is built on ancient sites and morals.

However, for it to exist through the destruction and denial of another nation is a situation that is hard, maybe impossible, to accept.

And so the struggle to square the circle continues. Stalemate. Time to change the players?