Thank you for being my therapist
I really do appreciate it. Listening to me when I need to vent, not interrupting my outflowing of septic thoughts or shouts. Just being there, as they say.
You see, just the brain activity in ordering my chaotic and occasionally tortured mind, of forcing them into words that make sense, into sentences (mostly), of restarting my ironic ways of seeing the world and words…this just gets me going again, and I climb out of the valley and see the sun kissed peaks again in the distance, across flat, grassy uplands.
The last couple of days have been bad. Recent events in my tiny hamlet have demonstrated to me that humanity is still capable of being nasty, twisted and horridly malevolent. And that feudal ways are alive and kicking here.
No details here, but my bubble was pricked on two occasions, and blown off course on another, by people who live very close.
And when I walked around part of Colemere the very few people I passed were miserable, wanted to avoid a nod and an ‘afternoon’ as we went by. Not a smile. Just misery.
So I have retreated again, and am trying to recover my inner balance.
Last night it churned through my mind so I just dozed and half dreamed.
I hope it will just take a day or two more to forget it all and just carry on in my bubble.
Meanwhile, I have been thinking and reading about this government’s performance over big V.
It is becoming clear that Boris has sent his closest ministers out to share the burden at briefings. So there has been no consistent message or leadership.
It is also clear that facts have been fiddled and hidden as necessary to cover government shortcomings. Policies denied when inconvenient. Facts hidden when unhelpful.
What has struck me is the sheer implausibility of these ministers’ attempts at empathy and compassion. Whenever Matt the Hancock speaks about his shared grief over deaths, he pauses too long, he stares too intently, he phrases just too deliberately…and we cannot actually believe his words.
The others are pretty much the same. Some look like they expect a shark to jump over the stern and drag them away. Others just seem uninterested. And they regurgitate the same old messages and self congratulation in the face of facts that suggest otherwise.
When Big B is on he says very little in a lot of phwaw words, clenches his hands in the most unnatural way, as if he is carrying an invisible tray (perhaps his butler has Big V), then disappears for another five days.
This is, and we put him there, our leader in this challenging time.
He imagines he is Churchill and cannot but fail. As a presidential candidate once (almost) said to another, on TV, ‘Mr Johnson, you are no Churchill’.
And said non leader B is eviscerated in Parliament by Sir Keir Charmer, when he lacks his rowdy Bullingdon fellows roaring behind him.
I think we are seeing a narcissist who lacks self confidence, and who depends on being loved and admired to survive, beginning to implode.
B lacks confidence, determination and courage. He plays for his audience and cannot see through a long term strategy. He depends on others to do his work.
That is not leadership. That is Etonian entitlement and personality dysfunction.
That is chaotic twisting in the wind.
And I think big B and his chums may not last too many months as this whole, awful mess churns around us. People are seeing truth beneath the rippling surface. And, like Jaws, that truth bites.