Contrary Mary's Road Rant

I am a contrary sod, I know that. I don't follow the crowd in the way I think, look, behave, eat or believe. And I don't trust the media or the government; whatever they say I immediately assume they are lying. This contrariness has so far stood me in good stead and I have no plans to change it, unless everyone starts copying me of course. Take the A11 expansion in Suffolk. This is supposed to be the answer to our traffic congestion prayers - make the road wider and the traffic will flow better, easing the jams that build up in my little market town caused by drivers taking shortcuts to avoid the, er, traffic. We have lorries clogging up our narrow high street because a neighbouring local authority, not even our own one, gave them permission to cut through our town after businesses complained taking the longer way round was costing too much. And strike me down with an AA route planner but I'm a driver yet I don't want to ease the traffic by widening roads. I want to ease the traffic by improving our pathetic so called public transport. Put more of those extra long cars with lots of seats in, buses I believe they're called, put more of them on the road. But of course that won't happen because the road lobby want us to drive our individual fuel wasting, countryside flattening cars. There's a lot of money to be had from selling cars, selling accessories, charging tolls, charging for taxes, MOT tests and licences, and not forgetting of course the massive profits to be made from the sale of petrol and diesel. The bus companies won't put on more buses because there is not enough profit in it for them. These people bid for the routes knowing full well they would not be able to maintain a "service" to benefit the passengers. As profit making concerns their priority is to make money, not to get passengers from village to town and back again. I have to drive to get to work in Bury St Edmunds and the surrounding area. I would rather take the bus than drive and I would love to get on a bus that departs on time and gets me there on time. But our buses run at two hour intervals, at times which are not conducive to many people's working patterns. Capitalism does not have the will to fix these problems; its priority is to make as much money as possible, as quickly as possible. Any concern for the environment and passengers is at odds with this. And they say I'm contrary.

Paul Rodgers - Free, Bad Company & A Nice BTM

Long before Beyoncé, Rihanna and other similar talentless shriekers known for their pert bottoms, there was a fine singer called Paul Rodgers. Now not only is My Brother Jake a great tune but Paul Rodgers had, and probably still has, the finest btm in show business. Cop this:

Jam v Conserve - Fight!

So what is the actual difference between jam and conserve? Just the word conserve puts the sticky confection onto the shelf marked "exclusive", "not for the likes of you" and "if you are a pleb avert your eyes NOW". But seriously, what is the difference?

Before Paul Young Went All Rubbish

Before singer Paul Young went all bland, a prototype Michael Buble for the 80s, he produced something very special. And I am hungry.

There Must Be Two Eds

The Ed Miliband I have read about talks of immigration control, unemployment loans and a firm refusal to renationalise. The Daily Mirror and folk on twitter talk as if he is a shining beacon of the left; the man who condemns UKIP and the Tories for their rightwing-ness. I see one Ed, they see the other Ed, let's call the whole thing off. TUSC is what Labour should be and more.

Capitalism For All Ages - There Is No Escape

I work for charities in a number of different roles. One of my jobs involves seeing elderly people in their own homes, and we get talking as you might imagine. The clients like me because I am cheerful and one of them even told me recently I've become a part of the family. Things like that are precious to me and can never be bought. Human interaction at its best is just wonderful. Under this vicious government we are all suffering cuts in jobs, services and benefits. These cuts affect everyone across the board, from school leavers unable to secure their first jobs to the elderly doing their best to manage on a small state pension. The cuts have made us all pull in our belts until we cannot pull any tighter. One thing I have noticed through this particular job is how vulnerable the elderly are to trickery and exploitation. One client is bombarded with junk mail asking for money, and this lovely old lady sends cheques to everyone who asks. Her kind and generous nature has led to a great diminution of her savings but of course these faceless companies would neither know nor care about that. What these companies do is not illegal - she doesn't have to send them money if she doesn't want to. But when there is the promise of a large prize it is very tempting to keep sending them one more cheque; after all this might be the one to make her dreams come true. When elderly people are living on their own with no family to protect their interests these vulture-like companies take the opportunity to swoop. The junk mail comes from different places, usually some out of town trading estate, on different coloured paper, in different fonts and showing different signatures at the bottom. But it's strange how once a client gets roped into entering a prize draw for one organisation, they find themselves inundated with similar requests from others. It's almost as if they're all coming from the same person;) I've gone off script a bit here but I just feel so angry and saddened when I see people being tricked at a time in their lives when they are least able to understand what they are getting into. Capitalism is behind this. Making money is all that matters and to hell with any notion of decency and morals.

The Bloodstained Roadshow - Let's Do It

We should buy clothes from charity shops, splash them with blood (red paint obviously) and anti-capitalism slogans, then put on fashion shows in high streets. Primark need to answer questions. Why was there no health and safety agreement in the Bangladesh factory? Any suggestions for good music - Walls Come Tumbling Down by The Style Council? It may sound sick but capitalism is sick and it deserves to be shown up for the evil that it is. And of course it is time we actually started changing it.

It's Not Normal - Weetabix and Tuna Patties

Well, looking online for vegetable fritter, burger or rissole recipes (what is the difference between them anyway?) I came across something quite vile - Weetabix, tuna and vegetable patties. It's not normal, I'm telling you, it's not normal. I used to work with a woman who said that whenever something displeased her.

I Loathe Robbie Williams - Here's My Cure

I'm really getting the hang of this embed code thang now. Thanks to @_Paul_And_ for the assistance.

Lone Ranger - Testing Testing

I think I have the hang of this video thing now. I hope...

Motors Video - Saaaakkke

Blimey what a palaver to get a video on a page. Lordy buv.

Local Democracy - Head In Hands Time

I really must stop reading my local online forum. It is dominated by a handful of reactionaries, now over the moon at the election of a UKIP councillor. It rattles me no end to see them complaining that the other candidates did not bother dropping leaflets through their doors.

Hold on a minute. Is that what democracy is all about? You vote for the person on the leaflet? What about looking outside your tiny domain and trying to understand why poverty and immigration exist in the first place? Try finding out what your candidate has been up to politically in the past.

No wonder we get the politicians we get. Are people really so lazy and shallow they can't be bothered to read a bit more than a two sized A5 glossy leaflet with bullet pointed, meaningless promises?

Democracy, shamocracy.

Hippy Music - My Confession

I'm a 60s child, born at the beginning of the decade so too young to enjoy the hippy music until I started to pay attention in the 70s. But I confess I am a bit of a hippy; all that peace and love sits well with me.

So here we are -
http://www.caat.org.uk/resources/companies/

Good Morning Starshine - Oliver
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=GxHAa_O0xII
I saw the Hair film in 1978 and fell a bit in love with Treat Williams as Berger, the poor guy sent to Vietnam in error. I loved the film then and love it now but I still prefer Oliver's version of Good Morning Starshine.

I Got Life - Treat Williams (Hair)
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=-1LRD3DtFAo
I love his table dancing. Nice ar... bum. And the lady in the pink dress - you go girl.

Manchester England England - Treat Williams (Hair)
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=fRsSfNXW01A
Poor Berger. Mistaken identity condemns the hippy hero to death in Vietnam. That's war for you; it kills the innocent.

Woodstock - Matthews Southern Comfort
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=pyTUF5gP2KE
I know this was written by Joni Mitchell but I prefer this version with lead vocals by Ian Matthews. So there.

For What It's Worth - Buffalo Springfield
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=gp5JCrSXkJY
Not an anti-war song; this is the story of an anti-curfew protest by young club goers in Sunset Strip. Nice guitar sounds.

Turn Turn Turn - The Byrds
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=W4ga_M5Zdn4
Why do I love this song? Because of the Rickenbacker intro of course. Without doubt one of my favourite musical instruments. Not my very favourite though.

Time Is Tight - Booker T And The MGs
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=nbBcXvKvB08
Not sure if this counts as hippy music to anyone else but it does to me. And of course it features that keyboard. You know the one I like.

Stoney End - Barbra Streisand
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=j__OhNPutzA
My favourite Barbra Streisand song of all time. Written by hippy Laura Nyro, so that's why it's here.

Weapons - One Time Use Only

Weapons manufacturers do not want to sell their killing machines just the once. Their explosives only work once, so what's to do? Thankfully the answer lies in the hands of our government and the arms dealers. Provoke hate and paranoia and bang goes your uncle.

http://www.caat.org.uk/resources/companies/

Eating For £1 A Day. The Latest BBC Propaganda.

I have been reading quite a bit recently about the subject of eating on a greatly reduced budget. I work for  a free advice agency and I know for a fact this cannot be done, not without ending up weak, stressed and ultimately in hospital.

Before this latest piece of budgeting advice kindly circulated by the BBC, I saw a client who lived on plain boiled pasta and nothing else. She had bills and debts to pay off, so she prioritised those over eating. She ended up suffering from exhaustion and malnutrition; hardly the best outcome for someone who should be fit and available for work according to the government.

There is "cheap" food available in supermarkets; labelled as "value", "basic", "economy" or similar. On the face of it this cheap food does appear to offer good value for money but turn over the packaging and read the list of ingredients - fat, sugar, salt, flavourings, starch, emulsifiers and preservatives to mention a few, not forgetting the ingredients the manufacturers don't list - fried faeces in turkey mince anyone?

I personally live on a diet as frugal as I can possibly make it. I cook cheap curries using lentils, fresh vegetables, onions and curry powder. I make a potato stretch between three of us by using it as an ingredient in stews or as fried slices served up with omelettes. I use a lot of pasta and rice in my cooking. These are filler foods; items to bulk up a meal and leave your stomach feeling satisfied. On their own they are pretty worthless nutritionally.

Sometimes for quickness I buy the cheapest, nastiest pizza at 60p in the supermarket and top it with my own onion, sliced pepper, tomatoes and courgettes. I can make these vegetables last for a week and use them in a multitude of ways.

So on the face of it, I'm a careful shopper. I rarely buy ready meals and I look for fresh fruit and vegetables in the reduced sections of supermarkets or at my local greengrocer. But to do this for £1 a day? I don't think so. And nor does anyone else with a shred of commonsense or decency.

I am interested in learning about freeganism or dumpster diving as it is called in the US; the practise of taking discarded food from supermarket skips. This food is destined for landfill, so if we don't take it, it goes off to a dump where it will sweat in the sun and create methane. This is food still fit for human consumption but the supermarkets don't want us to know that. They want us to keep buying more and more, while they waste more and more. What a crazy, mixed up capitalist world we live in.

Shame on you BBC. Big shame on you.

Wendell's World of Minor Catastrophes

Never a day goes by with something going wrong in Wendell's world of minor catastrophes. Take today for example. Two of our bicycles had minor faults, so we put them in the car and took them up to Green Ventures, a social enterprise in Thetford which specialises in renovating bikes that would otherwise end up in landfill. After a short wait our bikes were serviced and ready to come home again, so all well and good.

I then decided to go to Sainsbury's to get milk and flour to save me going out again later. I bought these items, together with a comic which included free gifts for little one, but more of that later. Now being a Saturday the car park was busy but we found a space and went in to get stuff. So far nothing had gone wrong, which in my world does not auger well.

Upon exiting Sainsbury's car park it is necessary to turn right onto a busy two way road, looking for fast traffic coming from both directions. The cars to my left blocked my view and I had little one in the car with me, so I was not prepared to leave until it was clear on both sides. This was not good enough for the red faced, middle aged man in the green van behind us, who thought leaning on his horn would help  my decision making process. It did - it startled me, and I remained stationery for a few seconds longer.

So after turning right at the roundabout we emerged onto the dual carriageway. Green van man horned again and when I looked in my rear view mirror I saw him waving an angry fist at me. Oh, I did feel admonished - so I admonished him back. We then turned left past the golf club and fortunately a blue car had got between the two of us and I was away. I looked in my rear view mirror a few times and noticed he was now tailgating the blue car. That man needs re-admonishing I thought.

Now back to the comic and free gifts. One of the gifts was a plastic mobile phone with discs which can be ejected at the pull of a trigger. After arriving on our driveway I looked at this object and pulled the trigger. A red disc flew straight into the air vent beneath the windscreen where it lodged itself out of finger's reach. Little one was distraught at this, so I proceeded to try and poke the disc out with (a) a wrench (b) a luggage strap (and (c) a plastic flag handle. None of these worked and when little one told me she had three more discs I gave up.

Finally, I removed our two refurbished bikes from the car and went indoors but I could hear little one crying on the front lawn. When I asked her what was wrong she told me her bike wasn't working and the pedals weren't going round. I had a look and noticed the chain had simply fallen off, so I lifted it back into place. I'm sure the black oil will come off my hands in a day or two.

I'm now typing this and little one is asking to go for a cup of tea and a bike ride. So after tea I will be out and about again. I do hope green van man isn't in the forest.

UKIP Voters - The 995

I live in a small town in Suffolk and like you, enjoyed the county council election circus on Thursday. I say enjoyed as if I mean it - I don't. And thanks to 995 closet racists in denial we now have a UKIP councillor "representing" our town.

Through speaking to the locals I learnt they were going to vote UKIP on Thursday just "for a change" or "to see what someone else can do". All of them, bar none, told me they were not going to vote Tory this time; they were going to vote UKIP. They made the usual references to sorting "that lot out" meaning the Polish and Portuguese immigrants and smiled at me, expecting me to do the same. I am in a position where I cannot state my political preferences in my day to day work, so I suck up the ignorant comments whilst gently steering the conversation towards safer ground.

And to be fair I can understand why they might feel the way they do. The town has changed over the years and is no longer the isolated little England they once knew, or so they think. In fact there has been a Polish population here since the end of the Second World War when ex-servicemen settled. It is predominantly a bungalow town and being Suffolk the landscape is flat, making it easy to walk to the local shops and stop to talk to one another in the market square. It all sounds idyllic, and compared to south London where I grew up, it is. I think it is fair to say Suffolk people don't like change and they don't like to be rushed.

And we suffer incidences of vandalism and burglary the same as anywhere else, albeit to a much lesser degree, but locals are quick to assume the vandal or car thief must be a foreigner. In fact since moving here I have observed the worst behaviour coming from the "London overspill" but that's another story.

The Poles and Portuguese are labelled "them" with white English being "us". I'm an incomer myself and it took a good while to ingratiate myself with the community I can tell you. Folk here are insular, (although once you get to know them they are easy going, funny and rather kind). I have heard of people moving in from Norfolk 20 or 30 years ago and still only being tolerated, never  fully accepted. If there is little hope for me becoming one of "us", what hope is there for the Eastern Europeans?

So now we have a UKIP councillor representing "our" interests. What this person will do to sort things out remains to be seen but I suspect nothing will come of it; he is thankfully a lone voice on the council at the moment. What worries me is the fact these people voted UKIP in the first place.

The Genius Of Rod Serling's Twilight Zone

The Twilight Zone has existed in three distinct periods; the early 60s, the 80s and the 2000s.  I have watched every episode from the original series and a few from the 80s and 2000s.

As a favour to @AndyPragnell and @colinb65 I am listing here a few of my favourite episodes from the original series:

The Obsolete Man - starring Burgess Meredith as obsolete librarian Romney Wordsworth. In this 1984-ish dystopia it is no longer permitted to own or read books, therefore Romney is declared obsolete by the state and is summoned for execution. The set is dark and minimal and Fritz Weaver is chilling as the Chancellor calling for the death of this unwanted old man -
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=EXzQD2SRESs

Elegy - starring Jeff Morrow. A trio of astronauts find themselves on a distant planet where nobody moves. Are they surrounded by statues and who is Jeremy Wickwire?
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=CYVpJw1qErM

He's Alive - starring Dennis Weaver as a young neo-Nazi who turns his hatred on someone very close to his heart. It features a brilliant speech on dictatorship by Rod Serling, a truly wise man.
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=YFE-8_xsHog

Perchance To Dream starring Richard Conte as a man who has terrifying nightmares. What will happen if he falls asleep again?
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=KN0uc08c26k

The Monsters Are Due On Maple Street. Rod Serling's brilliant allegory on McCarthyism and cold war paranoia -
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=UO73e7Y5wHY

And of course -

Living Doll with the famous Talky Tina as a doll protecting the interests of her little girl owner in the most dramatic way -
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=W2FXeeVTx2k

Not forgetting -

The Rip Van Winkle Caper - a fascinating tale of man's greed (capitalism) https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=DyDCaSqxhUc

So there you go guys but take time to watch the whole series if you can.  Rod Serling was a genius who used popular television to convey deep messages in an accessible form. I wish he was still with us today.

Love Wendell

Why Ignoring The Left Is Dangerous

I have a powerful imagination, I admit that with pride not shame. Sometimes my imagination takes me into Rod Serling-like flights of fancy and sometimes I reflect on the words of George Orwell, Robert Tressell and Aldous Huxley. But using your imagination to envisage the worst possible scenario is vital if we are to protect ourselves from the threats coming to our society from the far right. The Tories are a hateful breed, they have no care or compassion for the weakest and poorest among us and I find visualising George Osborne in a Nazi uniform worryingly easy to achieve.

New threats are coming from UKIP - infant class Nazis working their way up to the top form. I saw Nigel Farage in a meeting recently. He professes to be non-racist which did not equate with his constant references to Romanians and crime. The eager audience licked it up while I sat and scowled. Why is anyone surprised UKIP is being "infiltrated" as they put it by the far right, including EDL members? They are cut from the same cloth; it's just one is at the bargain basement end of the hate spectrum while the other is at the pricier end (think M&S, Debenham's, Waitrose. I'm not suggesting they have anything to do with UKIP by the way).

The left has no voice in the media apart from Owen Jones, the token "socialist". People like him because he raises a dissenting voice and I have nothing against him personally. But he is still a Labour member and let's not forget Labour hasn't proved itself worthy of the nomenclature "left" for a very long time. Its talk of shirkers versus strivers and concerns over immigration rankle with socialists like me. I want to see us, the workers, united against the idle rich and the exploitative capitalism they impose on us. By workers I mean all of us, including non-workers and foreigners who I welcome with open arms. We must stand together to defeat the hatred from the far right.

Anyway, back to my imagination. I can foresee a time when it becomes illegal to have far left views and certainly to be a trade union activist. People who dare to go against the grain and speak out will mysteriously disappear.

Shame on the media and especially the BBC for pretending we don't exist. The BBC has fallen head over heels in love with Nigel Farage yet has no hesitation in mocking Bob Crow on Have I Got News For You and Question Time where he is frequently seated at the end of a panel made up of right wing politicians and journalists.

I am not spitting the dummy because the Socialist Party does not get on the television. I am genuinely worried about our future. We are sleepwalking into a Nazi dystopia of our own making. Speak up, don't be afraid of ridicule, just speak up and keep speaking.

Voting Should Not Be Compulsory

Just been reading my local town forum with its resident UKIP foolishness. Some other contributors, not necessarily UKIP, saying vote for whoever is going to do their best for the town regardless of party lines. I haven't heard the result yet but it'll be either a big tory turd or an even bigger UKIP turd thanks to the local reactionaries.

I did go to the polling station after all and wrote my views on the ballot paper. I certainly did not vote Labour just to keep the other two out; I despise Labour as much as the others. And for that reason I don't believe voting should be compulsory. As every year goes by I am more convinced the whole elected representative thing is a sham anyway.

Power to the people.

Fitz & The Tantrums - Staxy Soul Music!!!

I switch on the computer this morning, make some drop scones for breakfast, and come back to look for Daryl Hall. These are the things I like to do at 4.30 on a Friday morning.

So looking through Youtube for Daryl Hall I notice this odd name, "Fitz & The Tantrums". I look at the lead singer and the first thing I notice is he's got Phil Oakey hair. Normally that would be enough to put me off but I reason as they're appearing with Daryl they can't be that bad (I don't do 80s music; certainly not electro-pop anyway).

Now do as I did and put your musical preconceptions aside. I urge you to grab a handful of this; it's real soul music. Oh joy!

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=JOM8lbhJJeY

We Truly Are The Ragged Trousered Philanthropists

No, I'm not voting. I'm not even going to walk down to the polling station and scribble on the ballot paper. I'm not even going to write TUSC in big letters right across it, or A in a circle for anarchy as someone on Twitter just threatened to do.

I'm not voting because (a) there is no TUSC candidate for my county council and (b) I agree with the old adage/cliché about not voting for THEM because it only encourages them. By them I mean the so-called mainstream parties. That phrase immediately puts better parties or individuals into the category marked "other", just like organic food is marketed as the alternative to "conventionally farmed produce". Socialism is in the "other box". I mean real socialism, not Labour. I mean real people power with us, the workers, taking control of our lives and sharing in the world's resources instead of giving, yes giving, the best of what we produce to the rich.

We truly are the ragged trousered philanthropists. Out of the goodness of our hearts, apathy or ignorance of a better way of doing things, we give wealth to the most undeserving people on the planet. We work, we sweat and die die early, so the rich can reap the benefits of our labour. The rich, the ones who inherit wealth  handed down to them, know nothing about real work. And to rich bosses work means going to a board meeting, shouting orders at minions, making phone calls or getting irate at servants but most of all doing sweet Fanny Adams.

Voting is all a façade to shut us up, to stop us making a fuss. We're not participating in democracy, we are allowing ourselves to be fooled year after year, generation after generation. We will never know freedom from wars, starvation and exploitation until capitalism is destroyed. Voting for THEM keeps capitalism alive, albeit with different nuances, different excuses and different priorities.

So why would I vote for TUSC? Simply because they are the best party to represent the interests of the working class, of which I am a very proud member. The TUSC is the only party of no cuts and committed to renationalisation of the transport system and utilities. If you go to work, if you have to work to survive, you are working class. Whether you work or not, if you are dependent on wages or paltry benefits, you are working class. Be proud of that fact.

Ultimately the answer lies not in the ballot box but in  you and I taking back what is rightly ours.The rich have had their turn and look what they have done to our planet and continue to do; gold and diamond mining, fracking, digging for oil in the arctic regions, nuclear power and warfare, the evil arms trade, the destruction of ancient woodlands and rain forests, and the deaths of men, women and children in factories producing cheap clothes for our high street stores (we all love a blood stained bargain don't we?)

To save the planet and to stop killing other people in the name of so called defence, capitalism must die. Start taking peaceful action to make this a better world.  Resist, question, argue, stand together and start saying no. Forget the timewasting, attention distracting petitions and surveys.

The so called mainstream"representatives" will never make this a better world. Never.

International Mystery Man - It's Anders

I have made some great friends on twitter and upset/been upset by a small minority.  One of the very best friends I have made is international man of mystery @AndyPragnell

Anders (which is his correct name; they got it wrong on the birth certificate) is at the top of my top list. He is often found waiting in the virtual trees like a verbal sniper, ready to shoot a barb here, a pointed retort there, but always with a kind heart, a warm smile and a friendly wave.

He has quite good taste in music, thanks to my education of course. Anders now knows a great deal about the magnificent Hammond organ and the uber clangy Rickenbacker - two of my absolute favourite instruments. Politically speaking, he's a good 'un. Like me he's on the side of the working class, the people who keep the country going with no rich parents or posh school backgrounds to fall back on. We've no time for monarchy, Anders and I, and we both dread the coming of that new baby, Daphne or whatever it's name will be.

Anyway Anders; a special gift for you my mate somewhere in England -

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Ophw7rvZcyc

He wears corrugated trousers you know. But he doesn't wear knitted trunks.

Voting Or Not As The Case May Be

Just a quick update on my reasons for not voting if I don't see a candidate/party deserving of my vote.

People say if you don't vote you'll just let the Tories back in. But this creates a statemate, a two party flip from Tory to Labour and back again, with some spineless Libdem thrown in for good parasitical measure. 

I used to feel the same - if you don't vote you have no right to complain. But that isn't true any more, and perhaps never was in my lifetime. The whole electoral process is a sham, a floor show to keep us plebs quietly suppressed. We think we are actively taking part in a democratic process when in fact we are simply allowing the main parties to pull the wool over. We get leaflets a few weeks before election time, glossy A5 pieces of paper with photographs of people we may or may not have heard of before, telling us how wonderful our lives will be if we'd just have the sense to vote for them. Vote for Nigel's lot and keep the foreigners out, vote for Cameron's lot and stop the spongers leaching off the hardworking majority, vote for Miliband's lot and, well, watch him cut things more gently. Oh, and vote for Clegg's lot and wonder which side they will piggy back on at the next general election.

The whole voting and petition signing thing just keeps us busy, heads down, doing our bit to keep society running smoothly. So we think. But no, it's to keep our attention away from the real alternatives; a fair and just socialist society, a different voting system, and using our brains to investigate and question what these politicians are really up to. While we are busy filling in petitions to stop this and ban that, the Tories are sitting in their offices smirking and rubbing their hands with glee. "They'll fall for anything, that lot" they're thinking. I wouldn't be surprised to discover that some of those poignant petitions were created by Tory funded think tanks in the first place.

Some Tweeps' Contributions to Anglo-American Relations

So yesterday I blogged on some Twitter oddbods I have had the honour to befriend over the last year or so.

Today I am back to haunt Mr Ohio, aka @KenBane1 and Mrs Topsy aka @banksger1 - or Ken and Geraldine as they are known to their friends, countrymen/women and others.

Mr Bane plays karate and kicks guitar. He's an awesome action man who is always asking me to fly my hovercar over the Atlantic. One day it will happen, once I have removed the scratches from my Renault chariot. Poor thing it is. And Ken likes to work with cement. These funny Americans eh?

Ms Banks shares my love for Topsy, or the great William Morris as he is more commonly known. We are planning to visit Bill's old gaffe, The Red House this year (I haven't forgotten Geraldine). I am interested in William Morris for a whole variety of reasons, including wallpaper and other assorted mischief.

Between them they keep me amused, stimulated and educated. I learnt that Todd Rundgren played a concert in Ohio once, and I noticed how very handsome Kasim Sulton* was on that Youtube clip of Feet Don't Fail Me Now -

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=qQENVtXvk1Q

*FAO Geraldine. He's the one in the black and white shirt.

I am currently sat here with blackhead nose strips on. It's time to rip them off now. Bye:)

Twitter Oddbods

I have come across some fine characters on Twitter, most notably the excellent @TraceySpacey1 who has become a very special RL friend. We met in Mansfield recently and she is just delightful - bless you Miss Tracey.

I have received a lot of support and encouragement from cheeky sniper @AndyPragnell. Always ready with a quip aren't you Anders? Not forgetting his identical twin @Colinb65

Then there's this fellow @_And_Paul_And_ (can I just day damn your underscores?)  Those things are a bane, a real bane, but I make the effort because he's funny, with his political heart firmly in the left place. 

I don't know what a Dex or a Paladin is @dex_the_paladin (But I bet he got the underscores idea from him up there). He's cool.

And as for @Lawrence_rayner of clothes peg dolly fame, he's another one with a mischievous grin and a heart of gold (More underscores. I give up)

@TundeH is my soul music twinnie.  She's convinced she's married to Jan Kincaid of the Brand New Heavies and she's also nuts for Pat Kane of Hue and Cry. She's nice though.

That's it.

Paul Weller Puts It Better Than Me

I make no bones about the fact I'm a massive Style Council fan. I was born in the 60s, a time of innovation and great music, so I was dismayed when the 80s arrived and we were bombed with electropop and synthesisers. To me, the Motown, Philly and Stax queen, this was aural abuse. To be truthful, I loathed everything about that era, from Thatcher, to the music, horrible hair and vile fashion. There was the diabolical Visage with Fade to Grey and Ultravox with Vienna. (Thank god for Love's Great Adventure - Midge Ure semi redeemed himself with that one). And as for Depeche Mode and Duran Duran - I just wanted to sit and weep, shaking my head in disbelief.

Still I found solace in Aztec Camera - thank you for saving my sanity Roddy! I also had various 70s heroes to fall back on - Roy Wood, Squeeze, Elvis Costello, Badfinger and Hall & Oates (yes really). But then one magical day something incredible happened. I turned on the radio and lord alive - I heard the unmistakable swirl of a Hammond! Mick Talbot and Paul Weller had only gone and got together and released the magnificent Speak Like A Child. Oh-my-word. Real instruments were back. I never thought the day would come when new artists (new to me anyway) would be playing Hammond organs, guitars and drums.

But to divert slighly. I was never into The Jam; I don't know why but the band just never resonated with me. I was therefore amazed and delighted when Paul Weller started showing a whole new side to his musical personality - the man had soul in bucketloads. I remember in the early 90s asking a work colleague if she liked Long Hot Summer and the answer I got back was a firm no. She belonged to The Jam clique and what Paul did with The Style Council was simply unforgivable.

As The Style Council, or TSC as we experts* like to call it, progressed, it became clear to me Paul had an agenda. I hadn't been that aware of his Jam output, so listening to the lyrics of Walls Come Tumbling Down knocked me leftwards; "You don't have to take this crap; you don't have to sit back and relax; you can actually try changing it" (that song has become an anthem of hope for me. I wish they'd re-released it for Occupy).

And this verse could have been written today:

Are you gonna be threatened by
The public enemies No. 10 -
Those who play the power game
They take the profits - you take the blame -
When they tell you there's no rise in pay"

The music business disturbs me now. Where are the voices of dissent on the radio, the questioners, the ingenius songwriters, the establishment kickers? When and how did we allow did Disney to replace Weller, One Direction to replace Costello and Rihanna to replace Squeeze?  We are being brainwashed into bland obedience but that's a whole other story.

*Me a TSC expert? Haha.

I Won't Vote - Don't Ask Me

The Brandon elections on 2 May 2013 don't interest me. I won't vote, so don't ask me.

We are swamped with Tory district and town councillors, not to mention MP Matthew Hancock. And with no socialist opposition in Brandon, apart from me and one unknown SWP member who also infiltrated the UKIP meeting a few weeks ago, that leaves Labour. At the last local election there wasn't even a Labour candidate, so I just wrote nasty things about politicians on my ballot paper.

That's not to say I would vote Labour if there was a candidate because I wouldn't.  I cannot vote for a party I don't respect or share values with. And anyway, Labour has made it abundantly clear its target is the middle Englanders, the as yet undefined squeezed middle. I am still waiting for Ed Miliband to explain what he meant by squeezed middle but he is so busy wooing the traditional Tory voters he's probably forgotten why he said it. And just why is he so afraid of using that term, working class? Presumably because he has either forgotten we exist or is unsure whether we are shirkers or strivers, so best just to ignore us completely.

And someone has had the audacity to put Libdem election flyers through my door recently. These have been desiccated and binned. I used to loathe the Liberals because they were weak, wishy washy and indecisive. Now I loathe them for being part of the ConDem evil alliance. So much for their putting the brakes on Cameron's excesses.

And I know TUSC have not polled well in other elections, as I sadly recall the embarrassment of the Eastleigh by election where Daz Procter was outvoted by an Elvis Presley impersonator. Nevertheless, if there was a TUSC name on my ballot paper that candidate would get my vote. TUSC is the only party of no cuts.

http://www.tusc.org.uk/policy.php

Why I'm Not Proud To Be English

Today on Twitter someone asked if there is anyone out there who feels proud to be English, and if so why are they proud?

Here is why I am NOT proud to be English. Hold your horses UKIP; it may not be what you are expecting to read.

I was born in a small South London suburb, set firmly in that chunk of rock known as England. My mum was a cleaner, my dad was a lorry driver and my big sister went to the local state school. So to all intents and purposes I was not only from South London, I was English. Now fortunately my mum and dad never expressed any pro-England or anti-everywhere else opinions, not that I can recall anyway. All that mattered to my parents was bringing up their family in a safe home with enough food to eat, enough clothes to wear, and the ability to read and write before I got to school at the age of five. My mum taught me to read with Janet and John Books; my dad taught me the time by drawing circles around saucers and getting me to write the numbers on the clock and putting the hands in the right places.

As I grew older I made friends with children from all different racial backgrounds. As far as I was concerned they were my friends and that was all that mattered. It never occurred to me this was MY England. I couldn't really give a damn what the piece of rock was called, and I still can't.

So why am I not proud to be English? Well, apart from the obvious jingoistic connotation there is another reason. I am not proud to be English because I had no say in the matter. I did not choose to be born here, just as I did not choose to be born in Whitehall, Kentucky or New Guinea.

The only way I could have taken any pride in the matter would have been if I'd got into a time machine, went back to 1960 and by some careful manipulation made sure mum and dad were in South London during that particular year. Not only that, they would also have had to have got jobs as cleaner and lorry driver to ensure I was born into the not too wealthy part of London.

And this may not be relevant to what I have said above but I also have no time for the melting pot theory or patronising thoughts of "tolerating" other people from other parts of the world. We are all people, end of. We need to take it for granted that we are all people and we all matter.

My ideal world would be represented by a globe with no place names on it.*

* I realise this may present a problem when booking holidays. I'll go to that bit over there - no, not that bit, that bit!

Four Political Colours

Red is the colour of socialism,
the colour of his rage
and the blood he drew from me.
I have a love hate relationship with red

Blue is the colour of greed,
the colour of his eyes
and the mood he placed in me.
I have a joy sorrow relationship with blue

Yellow is the colour of cowardice,
and the colour of the sun
which he took away from me.
I have a weak strong relationship with yellow

Purple is the colour of hate
and the colour of his prose
which he quoted to me.
I hate purple the most

Don't Vote For The Goddam UKIPs

Don't vote for the goddam UKIPs
the truth is they'll never love you
After your dark days; this mad existence
They'll break their promise; please keep your distance

And as for Farage and as for hate
Don't EVER invite them in
Though it seems
They are all you desire

And not just illusions
They're not the solution they make out to be
They'll take your freedom
They'll take your freedom

We must not let it happen!
We have to change!
Or spend our lives at the jackboot heel
Wishing someone had warned us
But too late to appeal...

Esther - Just Do One

You're a harsh woman Esther;
as a television presenter you were crap
relying on prompts from your producer

You're a cold woman Esther;
with a job title as inaccurate as your stats
and a heart carved from Thatcher stone

I don't care if this doesn't scan Esther
And I don't care if it doesn't rhyme
For the sake of humanity just do one

The Old Lady's Hearse

The Tories came and scorched the earth;
stole from the people and smiled
Punished us for existing at all;
and our point of view was reviled

The Tories sold the earth to their friends;
with paranoid weapons of hate
Told us to blame all the foreigners;
to keep them away from our gate

The Tories blame  the sick and the poor;
how dare they be a drain on the purse?
But the sick and the poor and the old
Still pay for the Old Lady's hearse

I Will Set The Country To Rights;)

I have been looking at the Tory manifesto from 2010 (disability living allowance will be protected) as well as puzzling over Labour's latest foray into bluedom (a contribution based benefits system). Labour are looking at welfare but they are not the party of cuts, they're really not. They say they're not, so that is that.

Harriet Harman talks of not dictating how many children should be born into a family but of ensuring men and women make proper choices about their children. So that's different then. Harriet also says working people are exasperated at seeing others bringing up large families on benefits. I work, I'm a single parent and I'm not exasperated. Which pigeonhole do I fit into?

Since both parties seem to be enjoying a parliamentary It's A Knockout race to see who can kick the working class the hardest, I thought I'd offer them some suggestions of my own. How they divvy them up is their own affair. They seem to be rather adept at *affairs, so this should not present any difficulties.
*N.B. Boris Johnson is to report to me for a discussion re the above.

Benefits
No benefits to be paid to anyone ever. Gosh, this is easier than I thought it would be.

Work
Following consultations with my media gurus (sorry, specialist advisors) I am here to tell you today there will be no more paid work. Everyone will be expected to work free of charge. We will allocate you to a suitable post.  Workfare has done this country proud.
N.B. This new ruling will not apply to bosses, the aristocracy or the monarchy (as if!)

Food
I am not unreasonable in this regard. Food will be allocated on the basis of need not greed (or vice versa if you're rich, obviously). We recognise food vouchers are unfair and are to be withdrawn immediately. Please return any half eaten parcels to your nearest collection point.

Outdoor workers will be able to enjoy the wealth of green vegetation available in our parks, laybys (how do you pluralise that?) and roundabouts. After litter picking and weeding you will be entitled  to one bag of grass for your main meal and a snack of dandelion leaves for tea. Breakfast is no longer a permitted word.

For workers in supermarkets or similar establishments, a meal of value bread and sugar will be provided at the cantee... skip in the car park.
N.B. Sugar will be protein enriched by the addition of earwigs, cockroaches, woodlice and whatever else is found in the dustpan.

Office and factory workers will be expected to eat the bosses' leftovers which will be drop... placed carefully on the floor while he is out playing golf or she is getting her hair done. Any spillages must be paid for by working extra shifts.

Everyone Else
If you do not fit any of the above criteria I don't know what to do with you.

What Labour Did For Me - Long Ago

I was born in the early 1960s and lived with my parents in South London. It was an old Victorian building that had been divided into flats and we lived on the ground floor.  Upstairs from us lived a young woman called Hannah Tailford. My parents remembered her very well, although I was just a small child at the time; she had a habit of walking from her flat to the shared bathroom without a stitch on. One day Hannah disappeared and her body was later found in the Thames, near Hammersmith Bridge. This was at the time of the so called Jack The Stripper murders, with Hannah being one victim out of a possible total of eight women whose naked bodies were found in the river between 1964 and 1965.

Our home became subject to press interest and my parents were worried for our safety - after all the perpetrator of the crimes had not been found. My mum wanted to leave the flat and move somewhere else. She therefore decided to write to Harold Wilson, who to his credit replied in person, and we found ourselves rehoused within a short while.

I often wonder how one of today's politicians would respond to such a request for rehousing. No personalised letter I'm sure; more likely a standard letter sent out by his or her secretary suggesting we look for alternative accommodation.

And now in this era of benefit cuts I keep asking what will Labour do or say. Ed Miliband is no tub thumping Aneurin Bevan, that's for sure. And when we turn to politicians for help do we get it or are we signposted to other organisations like Shelter or the CAB? The politicians of course are far too busy doing whatever it is they do these days.

Minimum Wage Maximum Outrage

I work in a few roles, that added together make up a full working week. One of my roles is as a home service assistant, or cleaner in everyday parlance. I clean the homes of local elderly residents, get their shopping and do their washing. I love my work, I love my clients, but I do this all for the princely sum of £6.31 per hour. Now call me greedy but that doesn't seem an awful lot of money.

I don't blame my employer, a charity, but I do blame the system. I claim Working Tax Credits to supplement my income. I don't want to claim it and I shouldn't have to. I didn't ask for low pay, it was all I was offered. Now here's a thought - why not raise the minimum wage and abolish tax credits? They were only created to subsidise low paying bosses anyway. Of course if the hidden Mr Nasty, Adrian Beecroft, has his way I will lose my employment rights and my pay could go down.  He hates unions, he hates workers, as much as I hate the tories. The difference is I am motivated by fairness. I want a world where people not only go to work; they have time to enjoy their lives too. Driving down wages will force us to work longer hours, leaving us exhausted AND stony broke. This is the perfect scenario for a capitalist society where we, the serfs, do all the work while the rich reap all the money and leisure time they could possibly want.

Am I angry? Hell yes.

Green Shortbread and Exploding Chick Peas

I am a whizz in the kitchen; nothing ever, ever goes wrong. I never ever tell fibs either.  Just this week I decided I would make a batch of shortbread as shown on the BBC recipe website:

http://www.bbc.co.uk/food/recipes/shortbread_1290

Now I don't know about you but when a recipe calls for butter I just look to see what I have in the fridge. I don't normally buy butter as it doesn't spread easily and it rips the sandwiches to pieces. I did have some value spreadable butter in the fridge though. I thought this would make a good substitute as it would be easier to beat to a fluffy mixture with golden caster sugar. The recipe called for caster sugar but I only had golden caster. Are you starting to get the idea now?

So I beat the sugar and butter together using the electric mixer, not the spoon as recommended in the recipe. The mixture didn't go white and fluffy, it went yellow and curdled, but I figured once the flour was tipped in no-one would know the difference. So I sieved the flour, stirred, and formed a soft crumbly dough. I then cut out approximate shortbread finger shapes. They all came out different sizes and a bit wobbly but other than that they looked really shortbread-y.

The raw mixture left in the bowl tasted really good, so I was looking forward to bringing out my tray of crisp golden biscuits.  Oh, and the recipe said to sprinkle with icing sugar, so I opened the box and chucked liberally. So here comes the science bit. I put them in the oven on the top shelf (should probably have chosen the middle shelf) at gas mark 5 for 10 - 15 mins.

Two things went wrong.  Firstly the shortbread fingers decided they didn't like being segregated, so like that old Pepsi advert where everyone stands on a hill holding hands and singing, they joined hands with neighbours above and below. They were also oozing more excess oil than Jimmy Carr's hair. All of that by the way counts as the first thing that went wrong.

Secondly, and this is quite inexplicable, they came out of the oven a peculiar shade of blue/green mould. I thought I must have sprinkled them with black pepper or some other dark powder. I placed the hot baking tray on the kitchen worktop and in my usual mature fashion I set to scooping the whole lot up into a pile and chucking into a carrier bag. Hissy fits R us.  To this day I cannot work out where the blue/green hue came from. I did wash my hands before preparation, I promise.

So now exploding chick peas. This takes real skill. I boiled up some chick peas thinking I'd make a good wholesome curry. I heated up some oil before gently adding onions and thin raw carrot slices, assuming this would make a great base. Doh. The carrots refused to soften while the onions turned black and crisp. Never mind, I figured the chick peas would transform the whole thing into a uniform brown and I'd add some yogurt for extra flavour and creamy texture. Nah. The mixture turned a nasty shade of diarrhoea tan; the kind you see after eating a bad curry funny enough.

For my piece de resistance I transferred it to a ceramic mixing bowl and into the poor unsuspecting microwave. After a few minutes of pinging and popping I opened to find what looked like horse dung spattered over the interior. The microwave door looked like a Tracy Emin exhibit.

So who's for dinner? Bring your own chickpeas.

Delivering Happiness

Once a month I deliver library books to local elderly residents in my small town and the outlying areas. I go to my local library and choose a selection of written and audio books to take to clients. The clients I see are elderly and don't get out of the house much, if at all. They rely on the home library service for entertainment, stimulation and friendship.

I often laugh at the reaction I get from clients when I choose books that are slightly outside their usual remit. They ask me to choose books which are a bit different sometimes, different from the stuff they usually read. And they love their bloodthirsty murders and saucy romances, I can tell you. It's not all Catherine Cookson by any means. They love their historical novels, cowboy stories, murders, romances, thrillers, you name it. I think the only books they don't go for are horrors. Try as I might I can't get them to read Tales Of Mystery And Suspense by Edgar Allan Poe.

But I often think the books are of secondary interest to the clients. What they enjoy most is the talking. We sit and have a laugh about my latest calamity or what so and so did at the lunch club. They often tell me tales of wartime, which I find fascinating. The clients are aged probably between their late 60s and 90s, so their reminiscences provide me with a fascinating oral history I wouldn't find elsewhere. They are generally in poor health but they never complain. We sit there in stitches sometimes.

As this is a voluntary role there is no time pressure and I am happy to sit and talk to the clients for as long as they can put up with me. Sometimes they'll mention something that worries them and I will try and find the information they need and pass it on to them. Working at the CAB means I have access to a lot of information, which I am happy to provide to the clients if they need it.

My clients live quiet lives in lovely Suffolk bungalows but of course they do miss out on a lot of human interaction. I try to imagine how I would feel if I couldn't get out and about, and how much a friendly visit must mean to them.  I have gained so much from doing this work. It enables me to practice my interviewing skills in a home environment and I can try out my latest jokes on a captive audience.

If anyone is interested in volunteering for their local home library service I'd say go for it. You'll make new friends and you'll make a difference to the lives of some wonderful people.

The After Effects of Being Bullied

I was bullied by someone in my life, someone who ought to have known better. Coming from the left side of the political spectrum, I rather naively thought socialists don't do things like bullying. I thought all the talk of equality and respect for women would carry through to home life. Sadly in my case I was wrong.

I will not go into specific detail here as nothing I say will be new to most people. The physical and mental abuse went on over several years and affected not just me but my immediate family members. I am no longer in that situation and have moved on in any ways, both physically and emotionally. My confidence took a severe bruising but it gradually repaired itself through going to work and volunteering.

One aspect of the mental abuse has stayed with me though. I used to be questioned, interrogated even, about an apparent mistake such as a slip up in the household budgeting. I would be asked why did these figures not add up, why, why why? He seemed to think the use of repeated and aggressive questioning would eventually illicit the correct response. In fact what happened was my brain would shut down to the point where I could not think at all; it would be like looking at a blank wall. I could not even guess at an answer, I couldn't remember how to guess.

I don't know if it was my mind's way of dealing with stress but it really did not help in that situation. I would then be told I was ignorant; being deliberately argumentative or provocative. The simple fact was I could not answer the question because I did not know how to. My mind would not let me attempt an answer. This may have stemmed from the fact that whenever I did answer a question it was invariably wrong. Whatever answer I gave to a question, I should have given a different one. I suppose in the end my mind decided the best thing was to say nothing at all.

Although I am now happy and settled I still suffer the after effects of close interrogation. Even when alone, if I read something that requires a degree of working out there are days when my mind simply switches off. I see the words or numbers in front of me but they are just shapes and my head doesn't know what to do with them. Fortunately it doesn't happen very often and I have learnt not to try and fight it. If I get a blank I just walk away and work on something else.

My work brings me into contact with people who have gone through similar experiences. I empathise and I never judge. So why didn't he, she, just walk away? It's not that easy. When your confidence is crushed you forget how to plan or make decisions. You simply can't do it.

Bedroom Tax Protests

Saturday 16 March 2013, sees the start of bedroom tax protests in 54 towns and cities throughout the UK. These protests have largely been organised by a group calling itself Labour Left but will also be attended by amongst others the SWP, trade unionists and greens.

Dr Eoin Clarke is a driving force behind Labour Left and his intentions are good. The protests are intended to force the government to rethink its position on penalising social housing tenants living in homes deemed too large for their needs. Ian Duncan Smith has already announced a partial climbdown by announcing foster carers and parents of teenagers in the armed forces will be exempted from the so called "under occupancy charge" or "spare room subsidy" aka the bedroom tax.

The problem I have with the bedroom tax stem from the fact these homes were allocated to tenants on the basis of enough rooms for all occupants plus one spare. The councils and housing associations rented accommodation on this basis, so it is wholly unfair to penalise the tenants now. Also families are by their nature prone to change at short notice, with members moving in and out of properties as situations arise. It is therefore quite possible for a family to be forced into smaller accommodation (assuming they can find it) only for another member to return to the fold. The resulting overcrowding can lead to tensions developing, with outbreaks of domestic violence.

And whilst I fully sympathise with the anger relating to the treatment of the disabled, singling them out and demanding concessions is not going to rectify an unfair system. My worry is when these concessions are met the fury will subside and many people will still be forced to leave their homes.

Add to this the lunacy of 721,00 homes in England alone currently laying empty. It does not take a genius to join up the dots. Shelter have an interactive map on their website showing the figures for empty homes are in your own area:

http://england.shelter.org.uk/campaigns/why_we_campaign/building_more_homes/empty_homes

By all means protest about the bedroom tax but demand it be scrapped in its entirety.