The Queen's Passing: An Initial Reaction.

Having just read the headline Queen Elizabeth II Has Died, I feel it incumbent upon me to make a post about it. Heaven knows the media are milking it for all it’s worth and are likely to continue to do so until at least after the funeral, but what do I say?

The fact is that I’ve long regarded the monarch and the rest of the royal family as a comfortable irrelevance. The UK’s practice of having a constitutional monarchy means that the monarch is head of state, but effectively a non-executive one. The position carries massive powers in theory, but they’re never used because there would be a constitutional crisis if they were and the monarchy would probably be dismantled.

So what of the personal angle? Well, it always appeared that Queen Elizabeth was a good person with wholesome values, and that was worth something at least. No doubt the republicans in Britain will soon be calling for the dissolution of the monarchy and the institution of a democratic system to elect a President. Well, America has that system already and look what they ended up with in 2017. Democracy does carry its own risks after all.

As for my own personal reaction, I’m prepared to admit that I did feel a certain mild sense of loss when I read the headline. The Queen was regarded as the most senior figure in British life, and therefore the most high profile, and the sense of something having been plucked out was perhaps unsurprising because she’s been there for as long as I can remember. But I mean no disrespect when I say that it was no more serious than having a tooth out.

So that’s about it for now. I’ve typed this post straight off the top of my head with no preparation and little thought, so do excuse the rambling nature of it. And if I might be flippant for a moment, I might add that the next time I watch an international game of rugby, I’ll be interested to watch the lips when the players are singing the national anthem. I’ll be curious to see whether any of them forget to adjust the lyrics because ‘God Save the Queen’ has been the order of the day since long before any of them were born.

The Reason Behind the Report.

I should imagine there must be at least hundreds of thousands of images of Vladimir Putin on the files of the world’s picture libraries, all available for a rights issue in return for a fee. This is where most of the world’s media get the pictures of him to illustrate relevant features. The pictures we’ve grown used to seeing in the British media since the Russian invasion of Ukraine have usually been one of two types: they’ve either shown him looking dour, dangerous and demonic, or they’ve shown him looking worried because the war hasn’t been going as well as he expected. Some have even shown him with his head in his hands as though he is feeling desperate and defeated.

That was why I was surprised this morning when the BBC World News page headlined a shot of Putin in which he appears smug and cheerful. The accompanying text headline was all about him claiming that western sanctions are causing more economic difficulty for the west than they are for Russia. Whether that’s true or not we have no way of knowing, but what intrigues me is why the BBC has suddenly changed tack in the way it is promoting Putin’s image and pronouncements. I have two theories:

1. There is clearly some concern in Ukraine, and possibly in the security-conscious west, that war fatigue might be taking hold in the minds of the British public. The fear is that we are becoming bored with the whole issue and would rather give up supporting Ukraine and concentrate on our difficult domestic issues instead. The image of Putin looking smug might, therefore, be an attempt to galvanise a feeling of indignation so as to stop our support wavering.

2. On the other hand, it might be the opposite. It might be a veiled attempt to lead us to the view that support for Ukraine is a lost cause – and one which is causing us even more difficulties than we’ve already got – in order to encourage the view that we should give up on them.

The problem here is that we ordinary citizens don’t know what view the Establishment, in all its forms, wants us to take. We also don’t know what influence the Establishment really has over our media. What we do know is that the media all over the world – in the west, in Russia, and everywhere else – is prone to taking sides. They filter the facts, emphasising some, downplaying others, and even hiding certain important ones altogether on occasion. I’ve known a few issues over the years which have strongly suggested that the BBC is not quite as impartial as it would have us believe, whether because they are in cahoots with the Establishment or are simply being pressured by them is impossible to say.

And so it is naïve to take news reports entirely at face value. We need to know what sort of agenda they’re trying to promote in order to have a fuller picture. Unfortunately, we don’t.

Discovering Luxembourg.

The Grand Duchy of Luxembourg is today’s topic of note. It started because the English Women’s football team were playing the Luxembourg women’s football team only around twenty miles from here in my home city. (I watched it on the TV and am pleased to report that we won 10-0, which is no more than we were expected to win by. We’re playing the USA in October, and that promises to be a much closer encounter. But anyway…)

I decided I ought to get to know at least where Luxembourg is situated because I’m ashamed to admit that I was ignorant of the fact (although I did make a guess and was proved to be just about right.) And then I decided that I ought to know a little more about the place because I remembered watching a YouTube video in which a Luxembourger was complaining that when he went to America the customs officer hadn’t even known that such a country existed. So what did I learn?

Well, for a start it used to be a lot bigger than it is now because the French, the Germans and the Belgians kept stealing bits of it over the course of history. I also learned that it has a population smaller than several British cities, which goes some way to explain why their women’s football team gets beaten 10-0 (twice this year) by England. I learned that some of its Dukes shared their title of Grand Duke of Luxembourg with even grander ones like Holy Roman Emperor and King of Bohemia (I imagine most Americans think Bohemia is a seedy area in downtown Manhattan, but I suppose you can’t really blame them so I’ll try not to. Damn – ending a sentence on a preposition again. Must try harder.) And I learned that their principle language is called Luxembourgish, the sound of which reminds me for some reason of those liquorice laces which I used to so like as a kid. In short, Luxembourg has a more impressive profile than you’d think when you look at a map and see it tucked away down there between France, Germany and Belgium.

So hello Luxembourg. Nice to meet you at last.

And thank you for Radio Luxembourg which I used to listen to in bed via my little transistor radio when I was a kid. We all did, you know, largely because we knew there was something naughty about it, even though we didn’t know why. And that’s something else I discovered tonight. It was because the BBC had a full monopoly on UK radio broadcasting in those days, and so Radio Luxembourg was regarded as something of a dastardly pirate of the airwaves.

And all this because of a football match. Who says football is only a game?

(I jotted this post very quickly, by the way, because I didn’t have much time tonight. Two hours of watching the TV – and a football match to boot – is almost unheard of for me, but there you are. And the one sad note was that the Luxembourg goalkeeper looked somewhat distraught at the end of the game, and her only a teenager. What more can I say? Oh yes, I might also mention that, as far as I know, my blog has never had a visit from Luxembourg during the whole of its twelve years on the www. Whose loss is that, I wonder?)

A Change of Critter and Feeling Devastated.

The little white pony I visit in the paddock at the end of Mill Lane wasn’t there today, and neither were the usual accoutrements like items of tack and the water bucket. Seems she’s gone, and that’s a bit sad.

But what’s even sadder is the fact that she’s been replaced by a small flock of sheep which came running up to me when I approached the fence. That's unusual for sheep which are normally quite skittish. Their eyes were full of expectation, but for what I had no way of knowing because they couldn’t tell me. And that sort of thing gets to me, you know. It does.

On Being a Rolling Stone.

It must be obvious to anyone who’s been reading this blog for a while that my life is emptier now than it’s ever been. I was thinking about it today and remembering all those decades when life was full of work, travel, relationships and faith in the future.

Being an INFJ, I’ve always felt apart from the people around me anyway, but at least there were people there when I wanted them. There were new sights to see, battles to win, the thrill of being sent overseas on a big photographic assignment, the pleasure of having fiction published, and more. It’s nearly all gone now, but is that necessarily a bad thing?

You see, it occurred to me that when you’re in the autumn of your days and know that the end isn’t too far away, having an empty life means that you have less to lose when the axe falls. So then the question presented itself: is that a negative or a positive view?

One of Bob Dylan’s lyrics from Like a Rolling Stone came to mind: “When you got nothin’, you got nothin’ to lose.” I was fifteen when I first heard that line and it impressed me, as many of Bob’s lines did and still do. But let’s take the next few lines by way of context:

You’re invisible now you’ve got no secrets to conceal

How does it feel?

How does it feel?

To be on your own

With no direction home

A complete unknown

Like a rolling stone

Not much encouragement there then, but apposite nevertheless. Thinking on.

Diluting Democracy.

I tried to write two blog posts tonight and gave them up. They both highlighted a serious deficiency in our so-called western democracies, and I found myself becoming impatient with the process of finding the right words to tell the whole stories. I decided instead to skip to the bottom line and leave it at that.

It seems to me that in a democracy, the job of politicians is to make life better for people in their sphere of influence, both collectively and individually and with due regard to the rights and wellbeing of all. If a person doesn’t want to work primarily to that end, he or she shouldn’t become a politician because it’s the only right reason for taking the job.

What I actually see, time and time again, are cold-hearted career climbers whose modus operandi is to pursue whatever course will lead to more power, wealth, favour, and a higher position on the career ladder. Service to self-interest is the only kind of service they recognise as valid, and that principle is one of the features which democracy is supposed to have eradicated after a history of personal power promotion. There are exceptions, but they’re rare.

Frankly, I’m tired of them and I’m tired of the fact that there’s nothing I can do about it. I’m also tired of constantly feeling the need to rant, but pictures such as this are filling my view of the human condition at the moment and rendering it a blacker shade of dark.

I suppose I could mention the new pair of wellington boots I bought today with reference to the lovely ladies in the shoe shop who were duly complimented, but I fear it would lack sufficient gravitas to qualify as an antidote.

On YouTube's Offal and Impending Dystopia.

I’m often troubled by YouTube’s habit of including in my recommendations uploads for those ultra-conservative trash cans of bigotry and misinformation claiming to be the arbiters of rightness and propriety. I sometimes wonder why they do it because I’m naïve enough to assume that they’re only preaching to the converted anyway, so why should it matter? But, being not entirely naïve, I assume they’re also hoping to gain converts among the ranks of the small-minded who are ready to fall off the fence.

(I get particularly irritated by the fact that one of their favourite targets at the moment is Meghan Markle and Prince Harry. I even saw one which claimed that Harry was a traitor to Britain – or maybe white, upper class people in general – because he’d married a woman with colour in her ancestry. Or it might have been because she’s American… maybe I didn’t read far enough.)

Anyway, the worst of the trash cans is undoubtedly Sky News Australia, no doubt influenced by the somewhat distasteful Rupert Murdoch. For years now I’ve been getting their poisonous little cans of rotting offal infesting my recommendations page, but not any more. And you know why? Because I discovered only this week that I can put a block on individual channels, so that’s what I’ve done. Bye, bye Sky News Australia, and very, very good riddance.

*  *  *

I’m ranting a lot tonight, aren’t I? It’s because my mental state is growing ever more fatigued by what I read in the news every morning. I’m beginning to feel impatient to die so as to rid myself of the rabid rats occupying the seats of leadership and influence in world affairs. They’re depressing the hell out of me, and my hope of coming back into a saner, more humane world is troubled by the thought that full-blown dystopia might be the order of the day by then and matters will be even worse.

Treading on Israeli Eggshells.

I read today that Israel has introduced new laws to control – and presumably strongly discourage – romantic relationships between Israelis and Palestinians. This is a clear case of discrimination based on ethnicity, and is, therefore, definitively an equivalent of apartheid. When apartheid was applied in South Africa the west was rightly indignant and applied sanctions to that state. So why no sanctions against Israel?

And let’s take another example. Israel bases its claim to sovereignty over the West Bank on their own reading of history. Putin used the same claim of historical validity when justifying his invasion of Ukraine, and the west applied sanctions. So I ask the same question: why no sanctions against Israel? Why does the west constantly pussyfoot around Israel while throwing everything but the kitchen sink at other malefactors?

No doubt part of the reason is the fact that Israel is strategically important to western interests, which might be convenient but is it ethical? But there’s also the fact that any criticism of Israel – even when their abusive treatment of the Palestinians is clear for all to see – is immediately greeted with the howling accusation of anti-Semitism.

Which is absurd; utterly so. We all know it’s absurd, but everyone is so afraid of that neat little phrase that they will back down like frightened puppies rather than hit it for six where it rightly belongs. And so abuse and absurdity prevails, and innocent people continue to suffer, and I don’t like it.

Falling Standards at the Beeb.

One of England’s leading batsmen, Jonny Bairstow, has had to withdraw from the final test match against South Africa because he broke his leg in a freak accident on the golf course. He reported the fact via Instagram, about which the BBC journalist wrote:

Bairstow confirmed he will need surgery on his Instagram account.

Not his leg? See what I mean? Clauses the wrong way round. Sloppy. Lamentable. What has become of the BBC, because this sort of thing happens all too frequently these days?

On Being a Memory.

Four and a half years ago a consultant urologist told me that I had a cancer in one of my kidneys. He recommended removing the stricken organ because, he said, chemotherapy is generally ineffective with kidney cancers, and so I asked him what would happen if I declined surgery. He told me that the cancer would grow and I would be dead in around two years. I agreed to have the operation.

This much is old news, but what’s new is the sudden shift in my perception of how this relates to the here and now. You see, when the choice of action concerns the prospect of something dramatic happening in the future – in this case death, the big break-off point, the change from a state of being to some kind of non-being – the focus of attention is on the event itself. ‘I will die soon if I don’t have this operation.’

But it occasionally strikes me that if I’d made a different decision, the event would have occurred by now. I would have died around 2-2½ years ago, and that means that, as far as anyone who knew me and is still alive is concerned, I would now be a distant memory. And the thought of being a distant memory, instead of a material being functioning in a material universe, seems somehow more profound than the transition from being alive to not being alive. So that has now become the focus of attention whenever I’m reminded of mortality.

(Although, purely as an aside, I have to say that every time I read the news in the morning and witness the lamentable standard of those ordering the affairs of us material beings, I do seriously wonder whether I made the right choice.)