Blog
A Brexit Compromise?
Letter on No deal
Submitted to letters pages 6th Feb 2019
It causes me great alarm that our news reports seem to be full of Vox pops of people on the streets of the UK brushing off concerns and promoting a view that they are so fed up with the Brexit issue they think we should just fall out of our membership on the 29th March with no deal. Even more alarming are the polls I see which imply a proportion of people selecting no-deal as a desired option think this means we carry on as we are.
@redalphababe
for an old friend.
Why didn’t you go away
Why did you Stay?
Your dream, summer warmth and a little house in France
turned into a sad game of no chance
You followed your duty
always with grace and love and kindness
a beautiful smile fixed on your face
Your freedom denied
but you would not have taken it
given the choice you would probably have accepted
the responsibilities
of your life
and borne them with glee
I think you never really wanted to flee
You just wanted the choice put in your hands, to go
if you wanted to see new lands
It wasn’t to happen
you are far now in peace
Your heart lives inside us,
your kindness won’t cease to be close to our memory
our strength will only increase
Whether we knew you for long or for short
Our lives have been richer to know you at all
Your life was to lift others, help heal their pain
Our fabulous angel, no more need to take the strain.
So live now in sunshine, your cottage awaits
Roses grow in the garden, Butterflies pollinate,
in joy for your company they flutter and hover,
Bees whisper to you “don’t worry, here it’s always summer”
@redalphababe
The Bungalow.. A Brexit Allegory
We really liked the look of it as the seller weaved ideas for us and wooed us with his magic words. It had so many possibilities. We could give up our jobs and build a little business in the grounds. Perhaps a guesthouse. The inside had evidence of damp in the walls after being empty for a few years, but with a little work it looked manageable.
The price was fair for the promises the bungalow represented, so we had a long talk as a family and decided to buy it and we felt happy as we looked with pleasure at the windows glinting in the sunshine of a brighter future.
We did our due diligence, we hired a lawyer and ordered a survey and we went on with our lives looking forward to the day when we could make our plans for the little bungalow in the sunshine.
All was not well though. It turns out when the paperwork was examined, and the searches were done that the house had been built without any qualified person signing it off. In fact, part of the property did not even have the planning permissions it was advertised with. Nobody had ever checked to see if it had been built to the required standard. The ceiling was full of asbestos, the ground riddled with rat holes. We had no idea if it was a money pit or an accident waiting to happen. On closer inspection still, the damp was rising, we could see light through the roof and the windows rattled in the wind. The property was worth only half of the asking price.
The people who had wanted us to buy the bungalow tried to gloss over the problems. They told us everything would work out just fine. When we carried on voicing our doubts, they told us we had agreed to the purchase and there was no getting out of it. When we still looked unhappy, they threatened us with unpleasant consequences and the ire of the vendors if we tried to overturn our own decision. There was to be no re think or second chance to consider the consequences of our purchase, they said. To do so would be overturning the will of the family, they said.
We argued for months. What should we do, what was a fair compromise? Which deal was the best risk moving in as it was and take our chances with the leaky roof or borrow some extra money to do the work? Should we rent another house whilst the remedial works were completed. What if it took years? Our family was split, we even took it out on our neighbours and blamed them for making us unhappy in our current house in the first place, though actually none of us could really remember what it was about our home we disliked now we came to think of it. Of course, our friends couldn’t understand why we were being mean to them and feeling very hurt, they drifted away from our lives. The shifty people who tried to sell us the house looked on at the chaos smiling. Pretty soon they would reap the benefits to their bank balance of their lies and our bad decision.
But one day in the midst of a shouting match, we realised we couldn’t go on and that what we thought we were buying didn’t exist, it was a dream, a mirage, an impossibility. We might, after a lot of time and elbow grease and money be able to make the bungalow a habitable home for us in the end, but as we looked at our existing house with it’s comforting fireplace and beautiful bay windows, it’s interesting neighbours and its proximity to the heart of a beautiful town and all its delights, we realised the price we would have to pay was far, far too high.
We realised that with a little tweaking and renewing we could make more out of exactly where we were without having to pay any removal fees. It was so simple, we could just change our minds.
To be sure we wrote out the pros and cons and risks, our existing house versus the bungalow. Then we carefully absorbed those points and discussed them calmly, fact checked and read experts advice and then had a family vote. The will of the family had changed. We patched up our rows with the neighbours. We told the shifty salespeople we were staying put, we didn’t want the substandard bungalow anymore and we would be building a brighter better future exactly where we had belonged all along.
Do the right thing Parliament
More for #the5million
Hail
2 years suspended
Uncertain futures
A life of broken plans
A Home with a bolt on the door
Who will slide it open? Will they unlock it and when?
Aged old friends too embarrassed to think
Too frightened to look lest they feel the burn of personal responsibility
Sops and platitudes rain down as
cold projectiles of hail
fueling grieving resentment freezing forgiveness
Slowly dwindling to silence then distance
‘We didn’t mean you’
Too proud to admit your error
You hide behind these words with your fake tans and polished smiles
Your Marks suits and empty eyes.
@redalphababe
Movement
An open horizon beckons its hope to excited people
A reflection in the sunlight of potential new fates
Children learn languages
Parents, new skills
Beautiful girls learn words of passion whispered by lovers on strange moonlit shores
Students pack sweet memories in their rucksacks, currency for their life ahead
We can breathe in our freedom
We can drink it’s energising adventure
We pack our bags with glee undiminished by our pasts, undeterred from our future possibilities
We remove freedom from those we would punish for bad choices
yet we have done no wrong – so why send ourselves into solitary confinement
@redalphababe
Resignation letter sent October 2017
Here is the article that prompted my post today
Corbyn: Brexit would go ahead even if Labour won snap election
Fawn Socks
Pictures from Twitter – 4 little verses
Refugees
They see swarming
We see calling
Mourning
For Histories lost
And futures stopped
Food bank
Full shelves
Empty stomachs
Frozen minds
Gurning suits look proudly on
Their creation of shame born out of patronage
Victims required for illusion of empire.
Ugly thread
Lack of care
Or hidden behind the caps of hate?
Envy and anger designed to inflict damage
Troll or bot or friendly fire?
The hurt is the same, the journey has been long
Pick the right fight
We are close to the finishing line,
Reject the ugly, embrace the goal.
Freedom of Movement
A right to live a life your own
A right to love in sun or snow
A hope and dream which can be real
No bank nor birth can stop the zeal which which we dare to start again
or try some shoes not otherwise worn
You would give that blessing away
to give mine too is not a game
It’s a pain endured, an agony, a crime
Our identity
ripped
shredded
Undermined
Our pattern pieces make sense sewn up
Torn apart, they are rags forgotten, unworn
in a drawer, an incomplete project
mothballed
abandoned
left behind
As elsewhere the future is forged without us.
You lose too.
@redalphababe