The Poet Laura-eate

The Painting

noreply@blogger.com (The Poet Laura-eate) — Fri, 03 Nov 2023 22:51:00 +0000

The Painting

Mirabelle Jagoe looked at the full length portrait in the museum gallery.

Looked and longed.

She visited Halstead Von Bischoff at least once a week, twice when it was late opening once a month.

He returned her gaze, proud and haughty as if daring her to love him

Sometimes when she gazed at him long enough she almost saw a twinkle in his eye.

An acknowledgement. An ignition. An invitation.

And she thrilled as she imagined her life with him.

Centuries breached and forgotten, lifetimes almost touching.

The man who would leave her with nothing left to want

A master of horseback, masterful in the bed chamber

An unstoppable force of nature.

At home at night, she began dressing for him

Long flowing dresses with empire waists and satin trim

She studied intricate 18^th century hairstyles on the internet

And practiced talking with her eyes in mirrors

She stopped going to work

It became hard to remember the city boy who broke her heart

That insignificance of a man from whom she first sought distraction in galleries

Von Bischoff began to meet her in her dreams each night

And implored her to steal his painting before it could be relegated to the gallery basement for another eighty years

He had a fine ship chartered for her.

They would sail away to the New World and start a new life

Her chance came. She noticed his room unattended one afternoon in the last hour of opening.

She walked towards the painting until for the first time she could actually touch it.

Trembling as the alarms went off she grabbed at the edges but before she knew it a muscular arm reached out, drew her into the painting and Von Bischoff wrapped his cloak around her.

Gallery staff rushed in to find Von Bischoff smiling broadly as he held a glowing Mirabelle, her golden locks spilling over the edge of his cloak.

Her coat and bag lay abandoned in front of the rope barrier.

They would never take his portrait down now.

©LS King

The Old Hotel

noreply@blogger.com (The Poet Laura-eate) — Fri, 03 Nov 2023 22:49:00 +0000

The Old Hotel

She had been a fancy lady in her day with curved Regency skirts, a large balcony, big-eyed bow fronted windows with cast iron lashes, and boasting a complexion of clear Portland and a bright red brassy front door kissing guests in from long tiring journeys. Her plush red interiors gaped deep, warm and welcoming. She was a wet whisky welcome with smoky lamp-lit eyes, a promise of naughty niceties away from grinding convention. A tart with a heart and the great and the good loved her. Lords and Ladies were frequent visitors as they took the waters and penned daily letters home. Not everyone could afford her, though detectives often enjoyed free rooms paid for by adulterers seeking kiss me quick divorces. For others she was a special occasion treat with her wedding suite, her afternoon teas or her birthday ballroom.

Staff enjoyed their own dalliances as they made up the vallances. Life was jolly both below and above stairs.

With every season came new reason to love her and many a well-heeled widower moved in all year round for that permanent holiday, offering solicitous service and changing daily company plus the regulars for cards three times a week. Oscar Wilde once slept here and a Prime Minister too, though some said that was just a rumour.

Habits changed, the seaside declined, decimated first by cruising, then the package holiday era, our poor lady’s paintwork curled and cried but she held her pride and when her basement was invaded she kicked the trap door shut behind him so no one could find him, snuffing his fire out too.

Oh, the thousand stories she could tell if she were a sea shell.

But now she’s a budget hotel, scarcely better than a motel and people come for conferences rather than romances.

The silver service may be no more but she still has views to die for.

©LS King 2023

A Big Hello To All My New Readers

noreply@blogger.com (The Poet Laura-eate) — Fri, 24 Mar 2023 23:24:00 +0000

My humble little blog has been sadly neglected for some while as life and work has taken over.

Today it's been brought to my attention I may have a new readership since venturing into local politics, so I thought I'd better say Hello.

However should anyone be here digging for my political past, I will save you the trouble.

There isn't one.

Hard to believe maybe, but it happens to be true, Until now I've never had a political bone in my body, never been a member of a political party or remotely attracted to politics. Ok, I've always voted, but only because my family suffered heavy casualties in two world wars and it seemed an insult to all those ancestors who died for my freedom not to vote.

But it's always been a tough call at the polling station deciding which is the 'least of the evils' to vote for in the absence of a 'pick of the crop' array of glittering political offerings.

As a cynic, I've always seen politics as a divide and rule game to keep us all either moaning about how bad things are while they get even worse or at each other's throats rather than holding power to account and demanding the goods and services we pay for, no excuses. It's been hard to engage as a result.

Right and Left seem to me, to be wings of the same bird, and if they extend to extremes at either side, they probably end up meeting in the middle at the back somewhere.

For myself, I remain a wingless beast and a fan of balance in all things.

Living in a British democracy we are lucky enough to live in a consent and contract-based society. Even if we've elected our leaders they still rule by our consent and we can withdraw that consent at any time if they go rogue or start acting against the public interest.

Well that's how it's supposed to work anyway. Sadly in recent years we seem to have allowed those who govern us to slip from public servants who work for us into petty dictators who tell us what to do when it is their role to run the city or even country, not the citizens.

That's what has annoyed me enough to want to do my bit to make public servants fashionable again, hence forming the Friends of Brighton and Hove Independents - spawned by the Friends of Brighton and Hove Citizens' Action Group - shining a light and campaigning on local issues for three years now.

We need a city by the people for the people. A beautiful and thriving city we can be proud of once more.

If you don't agree, don't vote for me and my fellow prospective councillor candidates. It's that simple.

I believe we have entirely sensible and commonsense aims.

But I'm not going to turn this into a political blog. That is being built elsewhere.

This just a personal blog. A mix of the silly and the serious, the thoughtful and the playful interspersed with poems, vignettes, obituaries, short stories, reviews - much like any other blog, I suppose.

Photograph by author near Black Rock, Brighton.

The Power of Comms

noreply@blogger.com (The Poet Laura-eate) — Thu, 20 Oct 2022 13:19:00 +0000

I used to love blogging and at one point had a sizeable world audience but the world has changed and sadly blogging has become the poor relation of other social media, which is a shame as it offers both more depth and longevity.

Then again, there is so much it became unsafe to talk about without at least risking losing your account, if not your life, under mysterious circumstances, if you had a large enough audience.

I do believe humanity is finally winning though and for that I rejoice.

I have recently become involved in my new local Union of Free Speech, and a bit of a public speaker myself. It has been both eye opening and refreshing to note the rising appetite to make free speech fashionable again and the growing realisation that agendas are not always intended for humanity's benefit.

Even now it seems hard to believe that whole families decided they no longer loved one another based on whether they all took the same pharmaceutical product or not - and had any confidence in the powers of their own imbibement - as little as a year ago. Thankfully many such divisions are now on the way to being healed, though not without some pretty devastating collateral damage in many forms. The horrors of mandates and restrictions too are now lifting in many countries as the threat of major lawsuits looms.

What became clear is that governments never take away human rights with any intention of giving them back. Freedom is not free. Human freedom must be fought for. And Plato was right, 'Silence is consent'.

Notwitstanding, all manner of abuses and wealth heists can be perpetuated under the guise of 'for your own safety'.

The world wealth heist/transfer now continues with the threat of collapsing banks and clim.ate lockdowns, not to mention neverending panicdemics with the new messaging that it's all our fault. Because the middle class and poor are obviously the over-consumers here and deserve every blackout they get.

I still maintain humanity will win though and choose to keep my vibes high.

But the quicker we all find our own voices and speak up, the quicker this will happen. Forget the friends and family you might lose as a result. You'll make new and better friends. I have. To live one's life based on the fear of what others might think of us or what we think they think of us - because how many of us bother to check? Well, it's frankly ludicrous. And here's the rub. In most cases they don't give a damn. It is all in our minds. They have their own fears and phobias to feed - such as what we might think of them!

I like to be 'kind', polite and considerate. But I will no longer do so to my own detriment or if undermining who I am is the price. Or just because I am a girl and expected to behave in a certain way. And how interesting the 'be kind' messaging was everywhere just before the pandemic. As if grooming us to believe it was 'unkind' to ask any questions.

Well what's real will stand up on its own feet. It needs no prepping, propping, programming or propadanda. It needs no cen.sorship so people can't talk about it without penalty.

Like a lion, it just is. It is only lies which are full of holes and liable to fall if not pumped full of human belief and reinforcement at regular intervals.

If for example the cl.imate cri.sis is real, it does not require my belief in it in order to be real.

Not only will everything real survive being challenged, it will welcome it. It has nothing to hide and nothing to fear. The real just is.

Electrickery

noreply@blogger.com (The Poet Laura-eate) — Wed, 24 Aug 2022 13:45:00 +0000

A Word From Cicero...

noreply@blogger.com (The Poet Laura-eate) — Wed, 24 Aug 2022 13:41:00 +0000

Torturing the Elderly...

noreply@blogger.com (The Poet Laura-eate) — Tue, 28 Sep 2021 10:10:00 +0000

I recently went for a job managing the premises of a care home complex and was horrified to find that post-Freedom day, post jab, the poor residents (now inmates) had fewer human freedoms than a Category A prisoner!

And despite life in the city/on the beach being pretty well completely back to normal less than a mile away.

I mean some of these folk are in the final months/weeks of their natural lives anyway, so to deprive them of anything they want or restrict family and friend access is totally out of order. Cruelty, no less, since those with dementia are unlikely to be able to comprehend why they are being treated like this.

And wasn't the wonderjab supposed to protect them from the rona?

Didn't BoJo tell us around this time last year that once the elderly and vulnerable were 'done' all restrictions would be lifted?

So much for care home 'dignity and respect' policies. So much for BoJo and his bogus promises.

Needless to say I dodged a bullet with that role. Apart from the bs, I couldn't bear to have been complicit in and witness to that level of human cruelty.

Weeks later, we are now hearing that thanks to govt's attempts to mandate the jibjab for staff or they lose their jobs, some care homes are lacking enough staff to get residents up, washed and dressed in the mornings! Some may even have to close!

Things just get worse and worse for poor care home residents, and paying through the nose for such treatment, to add insult to injury. So much for 'safeguarding' issues. These appear to be completely out the window now. I wouldn't be surprised if corporate manslaughter charges are eventually brought by some families.

It is literally criminal what is going on in the care homes.

And none of it's the law, just govt 'guidelines' (which are differently interpreted by each establishment.) Even more alarmingly, when I looked at the latest Care Quality Commission (CQC) report for the establishment where I had an interview the CQC were clearly now ONLY judging care homes on their rona-prevention measures, not the actual quality of care and how residents are treated.

Working It Out...

noreply@blogger.com (The Poet Laura-eate) — Thu, 09 Sep 2021 07:44:00 +0000

This is the longest break I've accidentally taken from my now-14 year blogging career.

Not because I don't have anything to say, but because I have too much and most of it would be banned, which in itself is pretty sinister, for do we not have a human right to spout sh*t on our own blogs and social media, if that's what it is?

Isn't it up to genuine readers to decide what does and doesn't ring true?

So I will share an analogy of just one aspect of what I am currently trying to get my head around re the world situation.

A Product Like Any Other...

Let's say a brand new toaster came onto the market. 
While some people swore it warmed the bread to some degree it soon became evident it didn't actually seem to toast anything and sometimes injured the user in the process of trying to make toast, yet not only could individuals not return the product, they found they had no consumer protection under it, had to pretend to everyone else that it worked and if they expressed any doubts about it, found themselves social media shamed for 'spreading disinformation'. 
Those who questioned the toaster's necessity in the first place or pointed out it was not the only way to make toast, found themselves branded 'conspiracy theorists' or 'anti-toasters', bullied and coerced into acquiring it and even threatened with no job or freedoms if they didn't. 
Apparently no one had toast until everyone had toast!
As if that weren't bad enough, they were required to sign up to three toasters a year (or two plus a booster toaster) to get 'normal' back!
If they didn't, that meant other people died and it was their fault for being 'selfish' (apparently), though no evidence was ever provided for this assertion. 
While many who complied with accepting the toaster realised it wasn't what was promised on the box (ie safety and freedom), and a significant number didn't quite feel right after using it, or noticed mysterious illnesses or deaths in their family, colleague or friendship circles, somehow this didn't prompt them to join the dots or speak up.
Was it peer pressure? 
Was it herd instinct? 
Were they too embarrassed to admit they could be wrong? 
Were they earning a living promoting, distributing or selling the toaster? 
Did they have shares in the toaster manufacturers? 
It was all very mysterious as humankind had got along perfectly well before the toaster was invented.
Meantime it was all their Christmases at once for the toaster manufacturers. They had truly never come up with such a moneyspinning mass market repeat product! And to wangle liability-exemption as well! But it didn't stop there. Having intially stated it would only be for the 'elderly and vulnerable' they quickly got their sponsored technicians to tell governments that everyone needed their product including children.

The moral of this story? This is just a PRODUCT at the end of the day and like any other PRODUCT, it needs accountability and liability, including pulling from the market if it does not work or causes more harm than good. 
There are MANY highly qualified independent medical/scientific/legal experts out there demanding this needs to happen who have been deplatformed for their views. Go search them. They have nothing to gain and everything to lose by speaking out. So why would they if they weren't genuinely concerned about what is going on? And why hasn't there been a nationwide product risk assessment at the very least?

RIP Hal Holbrook and Christopher Plummer

noreply@blogger.com (The Poet Laura-eate) — Thu, 11 Feb 2021 19:08:00 +0000

It's been a sad beginning to the year with the loss of two acting greats.

First, my favourite actor

Hal Holbook (1925-2021), a Tony winner, five-time Emmy winner and Oscar nominee (1925-2021).Hal performed his original one-man show 'Mark Twain Tonight' all around America for more than 60 years - each night producing a different show based on his encyclopedic knowledge of Twain's entire works! He also played film and TV Presidents, Senators, lawyers, priests and villains, including starring as President Lincoln himself in the original mini-series. A wonderfully wise and intelligent man as well as a mesmerising actor. I previously wrote a piece about Hal here For more info, here is his wiki entry

Only a couple of weeks later

Christopher Plummer (1929-2021). Many women swooned over him as Baron Von Trapp in The Sound of Music, but I thought he was sexiest as Sir Charles Lytton, the jewel thief in Return of The Pink Panther. However this Canadian star did so much more as well with an illustrious international stage and screen career spanning seven decades. Here is Christopher's wiki entry.

I have the autobiographies of both men and they are superbly honest and well written. Hal in particular seemed determined to tell the truth at all costs. Interestingly both grew up without fathers yet ended up often playing patriarchal or authoritarian figures. Moreover both made it to their 90s with stage and screen careers spanning seven decades. Extraordinarly though it seemed they never actually worked together. though their paths must have almost crossed multiple times.

Each was an inspiration in his own right, but particularly Hal.

RIP - Dorian van Braam

noreply@blogger.com (The Poet Laura-eate) — Wed, 23 Dec 2020 22:39:00 +0000

It's been a year of so many shocks but it was a particular shock to find out our dear friend Dorian van Braam died suddenly at the weekend only the day after we had spent a jovial evening with him in his flat. Luckily my partner Ollie had the presence of mind to take what turned out to be the last photographs of Dorian as he held forth in characteristic fashion and posed in authorial mode.

I met Dorian around three years ago when he started coming to the monthly writers group I ran in Hove Library and joined us in a nearby cafe with others to socialise over tea and cake afterwards. Although originally from Sussex he was new to Hove and didn't know many people. He also had books he wanted to sell in due course so it was useful to network.

From the start he impressed me as a charismatic and cultured chap. A genuine eccentric Englishman possessed of an extraordinary blend of arrogance, spirituality, humour and earthiness. I determined to adopt him as a second father. He came to my very first stand up comedy gig and brought the house down when the compere picked on him and asked him what he did. 'I'm a writer of 50 million unpublished words in longhand' came the answer. There was no comeback to that. The compere then moved onto another lady from my writers group (Sharon) who'd come to support me asking what Sharon did. 'I talk to angels' she replied. There was hardly any need for us comedians! Later on Dorian came to a new comedy night to support me when I tried some new material, He was asked if he wanted a try out. Without hesitation he took to the stage and did a routine about Wagon Wheel biscuits shrinking and his frustrations with consumerism. While not being uproariously funny material, the audience loved him and found him naturally hilarious. Sadly he didn't take things further, despite my suggestion of a retired Biggles scene involving him entering in leather flying jacket and goggles (both of which he apparently owned), strutting round the stage looking in various directions before finally asking the audience. 'Has anyone seen my plane?'

It turned out he had owned a plane. Before crashing it into a helicopter and livng to tell the tale. He rode motorbikes, broke in horses, married a minor Spanish aristocrat, played the grand piano, owned a manor house in Ireland, acted, wrote prose, was an early performance poet, married a second lady, the mother of his three grown up children, of whom he was inordinately proud. He practiced woodwork and would turn his hand to anything practical be it fixing roofs, motorbikes or boilers and even baking bread. Careerwise, he'd farmed, been an estate agent in Spain an NUJ photojournalist and founded a successful water bottling company in Ireland. He had also once stood for Parliament and was descended from Dutch nobility. I thought he must be a Walter Mitty character until the first time I visited his flat and saw photographs of him with his horses, photographs of him with his plane, pictures of his Irish manor house, old business cards from his water bottling company and beheld an unexpected baby grand piano in his 1-bed flat living room! Then there were his 50 million unpublished words neatly stacked in A4 leather bound notebooks about 10 feet high in the corner, awaiting painstaking transcription to his Apple Mac. It was all true!

As if all this weren't extraordinary enough, Dorian had taught himself astrology and hypnotism and believed he was a reincarnated Spitfire pilot whose plane had been shot down in WWII and that he had almost immediately been re-born into a Sussex farming family with Dutch ancestery. Looking at him I could well believe it. He also said that when he took flying lessons, he already knew how to fly. A prior life was spent in a monastery he told me, and he would try and stay at a retreat at least once a year. Moreover he held no truck with conventionalism and didn't buy into the Covid or Brexit nonsense from day one, though he and I had differing theories about what was really going on.

In the time I knew Dorian, he fell off the roof of his manor in Ireland while repairing it, crashed his car into a motorway barrier, got knocked off his bicycle by an AA rescue vehicle, had one of his two motorbikes stolen and was involved in at least two long-running legal battles (in his spare time he fancied himself as a bit of a Clarence Darrow though he clearly stressed himself out over his battles with the world as well). One thing that stood out however was his utter fearlessness. He would try anything at least once and even if it were inadvisable.

Then there was Dorian's undimmed love for the ladies. He still had a twinkle in his eye and liked nothing more than female attention. He was therefore delighted to be invited to afternoon tea by my friend Ariana and her lady friends to entertain them and play the piano. Braams, of course! He also had some hilarious stories, like the time he went up to London to attend an opera singer's house party with plans to work his charm on the glamorous diva, only to accidentally fall asleep on her sofa instead!

Despite saying he'd had a botched heart operation a few years ago, Dorian seemed indestructible and came along to a recent Freedom protest and a Mod weekender. He also had a soft side, an ability to laugh at himself and a lifelong interest in the spiritual.

He had more plans and dreams than any nearly 80 year old I've ever met including an additional university degree and could have easily done with an extra twenty years to achieve them all, even if he did have eccentricities that often got in the way, like the restless spirit, which couldn't decide where he wanted to live for the rest of his life. And while he adored his children and grandchildren, he didn't seem in a hurry to put down roots or streamline his life, even at his age, much as I offered to help him find his dream property locally with the garden and shed that he wanted, and large enough to accommodate a grand piano.

Despite his business acumen and other talents, Dorian identified with writing the most and yearned to be a celebrated writer and poet. It was his life's dream. He self published a couple of books to this end and very sweetly insisted on giving us copies.

I saw flashes of genius within the pages, but sadly undercut by the lack of a strict editorial scalpel coupled with a pointblank refusal to admit that he needed such. If Dorian asked you to look at something he had written, you quickly learned he expected nothing but flattery. He didn't want any other type of feedback. I felt this was a great shame as he certainly had no shortage of ideas. He also had an excellent command of the English language and the ability to really graft at his computer for up to eight hours a day. A level of commitment many writers would give their eye teeth for, including me!

RIP Dorian. A man who lived life to the full and on his own terms. A man who did it his way (to the extent of rebranding his motorbike to a de Braam!). We shall miss you enormously. You may have been nearly 80 when a suspected heart attack claimed you, but somehow you still left us long before your time.

*Photograph at top taken about six weeks ago when we spotted Dorian walking past from an outdoor cafe in Brighton. We invited him to join us for a cuppa but he was in a hurry so just posed outside the card shop opposite, aptly named Scribbler!

The New Civil Rights Movement

noreply@blogger.com (The Poet Laura-eate) — Sun, 25 Oct 2020 20:38:00 +0000

Above are some photographs from yesterday's Freedom march in London. It is estimated that over 100,000 of us attended. The atmosphere was wonderful despite repeated attempts by the Police to kettle us and break us up towards the end of the march. The Daily Mail lied that they had succeeded, but the truth was that the march had processed peacefully and successfully for nearly three hours before coming to a natural finish in Trafalgar Square where a wall of Police waited for no discernable reason.

An entire cross section of the British public had convened from all corners of the country including a group of about 30 twentysomethings in black jeans and red sweatshirts emblazoned with 'Don't Let Live Music Die', a cohort protesting against the death of the hospitality industry, families, grandmothers, doctors, nurses - you name it, we were all there defending our inalienable human rights, our dwindling jobs and our rapidly disappearing democracy.

We started at Hyde Park Speaker's Corner with multiple speeches concerning multiple issues going on in various areas (I was particularly impressed by an impassioned Manchester grandmother sharing her experience of three generations of her family and what v.accines had done to them, leading to her decision to spare her children and grandchildren, who were completely healthy by comparison with her generation). A couple of protestors wafted burning white sage sticks around to bless us all with positive energy.

We then processed down Oxford Street and spontaneously all around central London bringing traffic to a halt and attracting lots of supportive honking from quarter full buses and empty taxis. And I, for one, was wearing a face covering a cardboard B.ill G.ates mask. A group of dancers danced along to a beatbox, drums and tamborines were beat, whistles were whistled. 'We ARE the 99%!' and 'Freedom!' were chanted at regular intervals. We were noisy but peaceful.

I met Piers Corbyn as we processed through Trafalgar Square. So much nicer than his brother Jeremy.

I am now officially a Corbynista!

There were many sad stories of how the C.ovid situation has divided families between those who want their lives back and those who live in fear and attempt to follow the narrative rigidly, only to still lose their jobs and freedoms. Those for whom it is easier to lash out at the 'cons piracy theorist' in the family rather than a government deserving of their wrath.

At one point a policewoman sidled up to me and told me I need to go home as I was breaking the law. 'What law is that?' I asked. She looked surprised. 'The Covid law' she replied and carried on. I wondered if the same conversations went on in BLM marches. Certainly they don't appear to be kettled, broken up or threatened by riot police.

We marched past Downing Street and called Boris's name, but to no avail. He hadn't put the kettle on for us, it seemed.

All in all it was a wonderful and uplifting experience to know that there were so many people who felt exactly the same as me and my lovely companions, and that we are just a fraction of the millions across the country who have had enough of the lies, damned lies, lockdowns and other abuses.

Roll on the international Crimes Against Humanity trials where our leaders will be held to account for what they've done to us and our country. Wouldn't it be ironic, if having swept away our human rights, they found themselves condemned to face the loss of their own?

Re-thinking the Re-set

noreply@blogger.com (The Poet Laura-eate) — Sat, 15 Aug 2020 16:54:00 +0000

I can't switch on the TV or radio lately without hearing about the great 're-think' or 're-set'.

The chattering classes particularly wax lyrically on Radio 4 about the elongated dawn chorus with such opening lines as 'During lockdown I've really had time to start appreciating the butterflies in my garden' as if that's all that matters. As if the whole Covid thing has been a gain. Some sort of gift. No thought about all the industries and businesses going to the wall, the domestic abuse, the animal abuse, the people denied carers and medical care during lockdown or dying because Covid sufferers had been released back to nursing homes from hospitals to infect other residents going on behind the scenes. A multitude of sins and horrors brushed over. But that's ok, because a few privileged individuals have had time to appreciate the butterflies in their garden or enjoy a slightly nicer bike ride because there was less traffic around.

Well here's the thing. Not one of us chose to be plunged into the situation we are now in. It has been foisted upon us without our consultation or consent, whether natural or otherwise.

Now we are told we are about to enter the age of the New Normal, but WHOSE new normal?

And if it's all our fault that the world was in such a state (regularly inferred) then surely it is up to we 99% to decide what new normal or 'back to better' we want.

First let's ask ourselves:

Who are the some of the winners?
Amazon
Netflix
Sky
Microsoft
Teams
Zoom
Skype
Bill Gates
PPE producers
Sanitiser producers
Supermarkets
Bicycle shops
Pharmaceutical companies
Surveillance companies

Who are some of the Losers?
All of us - our human rights have been either taken away or substantially reduced with no end in sight
The elderly and vulnerable, many of whom have been denied all human contact for months.
Blue collar workers in particular as more and more of life is driven online
Independent businesses (unless bicycle or food shops)
Anyone who wants to keep cash
NHS - while we were clapping, our government were selling large chunks of it off!
The character and quality of all of our towns, cities and villages if planning regulations are being swept away.
The disabled as all towns and cities race to the bottom to replace roads (including disabled parking bays) with cycle lanes to become vehicle free.

As with any crisis, the rich have become richer while the poor have become poorer (and in this case, the squeezed middle as well) Funny that.

Notwithstanding, it should not be up to the 1% - the cabal of billionaires who appear to run the world and hoover all the wealth - to tell us what world we are going to have, let alone impose it. Or to tell us we can't use cash anymore or have our human rights back until we all submit to a v.accine to make them even richer with no guarantee of success and no indemnity insurance against injury either.

The great re-set troubles me because on so many levels (including the local council using Covid as an excuse for all manner of highway robbery), it is starting to feel like the motive for what is happening. More and more it smacks of something long planned.

I do not consent and was never asked.

The Battle for Madeira Drive!

noreply@blogger.com (The Poet Laura-eate) — Tue, 30 Jun 2020 20:33:00 +0000

Scarcely six months since the 40th anniversary celebrations of the cult film Quadrophenia in September 2019, Brighton's iconic Madeira Drive, possibly one of the most famous stretches of road in England, found itself unceremoniously closed, no warning or public notice, ostensibly to 'provide more space to exercise' under lockdown.

Come June and travel restrictions were lifted but Stewards continued to guard the entrances and exits to all traffic and the traders grew restless, demanding a meeting with the council. Meantime my partner Ollie (mod, biker, cyclist, walker and occasional driver) often cycled down there for a cup of tea and a chat with the cafe owners. He was astonished to be told by one that a council official had come to visit and advised him that the council were planning to make Madeira Drive closure permanent!

We were both shocked. How could the council even dream of doing this and when the city had just been economically crashed for three months?

No more veteren car rallies? No more Mod weekends? No more Brightona and other events?
And what about visitors? What about the disabled? What about the restoration of Madeira Terraces? We are supposed to be a resort town!

We immediately set up a petition here to re-open Madeira Drive and Ollie started a blog here, which he updates daily, detailing every twist and turn in the saga.

Amazing people started approaching us and offering to help spread the word, but it soon became apparent we were up against some dark and determined forces who were not above underhand tactics.

Various articles and letters appeared in the Brighton Argus, Ollie was interviewed for Brighton Argus, BBC Sussex Radio and Latest TV. I made a list of pros and cons below and found there were virtually no pros to keeping Madeira Drive shut!

If you would like to see Madeira Drive open again, please sign our petition here and also fill in the council's newly created consultation here. The matter will go to full council on 23rd July 2020.
Thank you. Let's keep Madeira Drive alive!

Madeira Drive Closure
Pros	Cons
Makes Momentum/The Greens happy	Will cause businesses to close down (souvenir shop already gone)
Provides more pedestrian and cycling space (though in reality, few are using the middle of the road for these purposes)	Restoring Madeira Arches would provide more pedestrian space as would re-open covered walkway, upper footpaths, slopes, staircases and cliff lift.
	Losing money through: · Lost revenue from 393 parking spaces · Trader’s rent strike · Hiring a minimum of 4 x staff for 7 days a week to stop traffic using it. · No events and minimal visitors · Possibility of being sued by both traders and event hosts.
	Discriminates against disabled, carers, visitors, bikers, scooterists and anyone who is not fit or local enough to drive or walk everywhere. Disabled have been told they have to park in Black Rock car park, a mile away!
	May be used as an excuse NOT to restore Madeira Terraces or preserve unique Green Wall.
	Traffic parking in Kemp Town or Hove instead, affecting residents who cannot park there.
	No coach parking, particularly overnight and supporting local hotels or to take bands/equipment/audience to Concorde II
	No taxi access
	No through traffic, though was never much used for through traffic, but as a destination
	Chicanes already in place to prevent boy racers
	Not most polluting road in Brighton and no emissions studies to evidence pollution.
	Permanent closure mooted without public consultation under the auspices of the (temporary) Coronavirus Act 2020 and without requisite public notice or applying for A TTRO under Road Traffic Act 1984 (currently being legally challenged by two events organisers, we understand).
	Bad cycling accidents by speeding cyclists
	It is naïve to assume that Madeira Drive would be allowed to lie fallow indefinitely. Once businesses are gone, it could easily be sold off to developers and lost to the citizens of Brighton and Hove as an iconic promenade and events destination forever!

The World I Was Promised...

noreply@blogger.com (The Poet Laura-eate) — Sun, 07 Jun 2020 19:47:00 +0000

This is the world I was promised as a child...

And I want it back! Who do I sue...?

Parental Alienation

noreply@blogger.com (The Poet Laura-eate) — Sun, 10 May 2020 16:13:00 +0000

In support of a loved one in this situation, whose children have not only been alienated from him by an ex who clearly hates him more than she loves their children, but from his entire family, including uncles, aunts and cousins as the ex cannot afford for her programming to be undermined.

Coercive control is now recognised as abuse and has duly been made illegal in romantic relationships, but not as yet in family relationships, no matter that CAFCASS has termed it 'child abuse'.

Environmentally Responsible, not Green

noreply@blogger.com (The Poet Laura-eate) — Tue, 28 Apr 2020 21:08:00 +0000

I love dolphins, birds and rainforests as much as the next person and used to regard myself as Green, an environmentalist. In fact I wrote the first environmental policy for the Oxford college where I worked in the early noughties.

However now I find that being 'Green' seems to entail ditching all my old school tech and investing in a load of smart technology with built-in obsolescence and believing in scary sounding concepts like 'global compliance' and 'depopulation', I am having to revise my position and thus Green identity.

My idea of being environmentally responsible is somewhat different;

Rescuing heritage buildings and retro-greening them in preference to demolition and erection of glass and concrete blocks with a 50 year life span.
Walking, cycling or busing most places but occasionally driving a 16-year old car containing no unnecessary electrics or air conditioning but which has outlived its carbon footprint, passess its yearly emissions test, runs on unleaded and is easy to repair.
Expecting clothes to last at least 5 years.
Seldom flying
Recycling
Remaining child free
Not wasting food or anything else (if I can help it)
Being an almost-vegan (aside from the odd bit of cheese)
Ignoring most fashion and fippery (ok unless it's a REALLY cute piece of jewellery)
Eschewing so-called 'smart' technology including the Internet of Things, which are all just a waste of electricity and batteries to perform simple tasks I am more than capable of performing myself.
If I could buy a computer that lasted a decade and a mobile phone ditto, I'd be delighted, but computers tend to have a 5-year lifespan tops, even with upgrading works and you are lucky to get 2 years out of a mobile phone before the manufacturers cease support for it and it becomes increasingly unusable. You cannot even remove the battery from new phones any more.
Being strongly opposed to scrapping pefectly good cars, utility meters, boilers and street lights in favour of over-engineered, ugly and inflexible new ones, which claim to be green, but will take years to prove it and meanwhile could have detrimental affects on our health.

In a nutshell my own personal environmentalism translates into 'being sensible' and not buying stuff for the sake of it.

'Extinction Rebellion' and Greta Thunberg have to all intents and purposes, been put out of a job by the current CV crisis.
Enter various wealthy public figures, stage left, to opine that the world is 'over-populated' and that de-population measures will need to be adopted.

Whoah! Let's stop right there shall we?
1. Who are these (mostly unelected) public figures to make these decisions and without public consultation or consent?
2. How is there an ethical means of shrinking the world population within the next ten years beyond making free contraception universally available to all and tax breaks and other financial incentives to encourage people to have fewer kids? (and yes, I do want my enormous tax break for having none!).
According to 'Freakonomics' human beings respond best to financial incentives for behavioural changes.

If there is no ethical, consensual and transparent means of bringing this about, how is the architect of de-population any better than Mr H.itler? How is de-population any different to g.enocide?

If you adulterate a human being's food, environment, air, water or medicine to compromise their natural health and life span, this is murder. As for wars, whether military or germ, these are not ethically acceptable population thinners either.

I do not consent to this world and nor should you. You can bet your bottom dollar that the super-rich are not going to be affected by it, same as they are exempted most other human issues.

If you think I am being melodramatic, do your own research. It doesn't take many clicks to find verifiable evidence on independent news sites. And it's a head frack to say the least.

Only don't forget to speak out and share the knowledge when you do. Bad things happen when good people do nothing. Moreover...

Cons Piracy

noreply@blogger.com (The Poet Laura-eate) — Thu, 23 Apr 2020 13:25:00 +0000

If there were no conspiracy theorists, would there still be conspiracies?
If there were no conspiracies, would there still be conspiracy theorists?
(What a genius word conspiracy is; first part 'cons', second part 'piracy')

If a thing or person is discredited, does that also make that thing or person disproved?

Here's some stuff allegedly crazy people have achieved in the past, having no doubt had to battle through the three stages of truth to get there.

To return to Mark Twain's quote (top) what does censorship and secrecy do other than BREED a deal more conspiracy theorists? Surely transparency and telling the truth about everything would put a stop to them.

I wonder in the 1930s if anyone raised doubts about whether Mr Hitler was a nice bloke or not, only to be silenced with 'Oh shut up with your conspiracy theories! I don't want to hear it! Look at all these lovely autobahns he's building. And look how he's smartened up the local youth club with all those new brown uniforms. You're crazy, you are!'

The fact that the term 'conspiracy theorist' has become a term of abuse is certainly an effective means of censorship and thus shutting down all further question and debate on a subject, so that the established or groupthink view is the accepted one truth.
Social media has become a case in point. An echo chamber where approval is gained by fitting in, not standing out (unless virtue signalling counts) and friends are quickly lost through any deviation from accepted views or cute animal pictures. Where there are debates trolls can be paid to debate either or both sides, almost cutting out the need for the account holder, to form a sock puppet show.

Then again, bad things only happen in Bond Films. Or in other countries without the benefit of our fine western values. Surely.

If 'The Truth Will Set You Free'...

noreply@blogger.com (The Poet Laura-eate) — Tue, 21 Apr 2020 07:50:00 +0000

If 'The truth will set you free', why do so many of us seem so scared of it?

To believe in a delusion or set of delusions surely sets us up for far worse....

It is nigh impossible to coerce or control someone who knows the truth because their fear factor will be gone if knowledge is power.

Why this post?

Why these ever more censorious times? might be a more pertinent question.

I saw an interesting post on social media yesterday (before it disappeared). 'Everything being censored is what you need to know.'

It is often argued that truth can be relative, but if you have any doubts, there is a simple solution. Rather than take one person's word on a matter, just keep asking the questions that bother you with an open mind, check out multiple sources (including non-mainstream) and join the dots. Following the money in any given situation is also a good tip. Ask yourself who benefits?

Finally gut feelings play an important role in our internal guidance system. If something feels 'wrong' it probably merits closer inspection and question.

Don't You Know There's A War On?

noreply@blogger.com (The Poet Laura-eate) — Tue, 07 Apr 2020 11:39:00 +0000

'What did you do in the war Daddy?
'I shopped our neighbours on social media for having a glass of wine with a friend on their balcony son.'

We are at war it seems.
Which brings out both the best and the worst in people.
We are told we're all in it together. But actually we have to stay apart.

The enemy is invisible. We are told we need to hide from it.

No one seems to know a lot about this invisible enemy. Is it a killer or can an individual recover with just a few restive days in a handy Scottish castle? Are those it kills just about to die from other causes (aka Eddie Large in the final stages of heart disease)? Do the small percentage of apparently healthy victims have underlying health issues they didn't know about? It's odd that their healthy status seems to be declared on the same day as the death rate for that day, which wouldn't allow time for a full post mortem.
Anyone recall that months after David Frost died, his apparently healthy 31 year old son collapsed and died while running a marathon of an undiagnosed heart condition? My own family suffered the tragic loss of an apparently fit and healthy 10 year old niece the same year, who collapsed and died while warming up on a sports field one Saturday, another hidden heart condition.

Even the means of contraction is argued over with no clear information on whether it is airborne or otherwise.

As for the advice on staying safe, that just seems to concern 'social distancing' and personal protection equipment, not solid commonsense advice on what we can do to boost our own immune systems by optimising our nutrition and lifestyle or what else we should be cleaning apart from our hands. Would a daily temperature check before leaving the house be just as useful as locking a whole country down?

How many die in hospital? How many die at home? Hospitals in themselves are dangerous places and known to generate more than 20,000 UK deaths a year from hospital-acquired infections including sepsis. It doesn't help that most hospitals have sealed windows nowadays, forcing all staff and patients to inhale the same recycled air circulated via air handling units, which may or may not be serviced on a regular basis, and use outsourced cleaning and maintenance, over which they have less control and accountability. Many staff also arrive and go home in uniform kit which potentially transports germs in and out of the hospital.

All we know for sure is that we are dealing with germ warfare, but is it natural or was it created in a laboratory? The means certainly exist and the use of germ warfare has been both possible and, at various times and in various conflicts, employed since WWI. We also know that sometimes natural viruses come along or mutate from more harmless ones, hence the caution against prescribing too many antibiotics, so they still work when we really need them to.

They say the first victim of any war is truth. But what is truth anymore?
Fake news is everywhere. But the 'fake' label seems to exclude sponsored news, news owned by media goliaths or news angled to further political agendas, if not conspiracy ones. There's no such thing as news without spin any more. Even the timing of the Queen's special speech was apparently carefully timed to be neither too early nor too late in the crisis.

Perhaps follow the money is the best advice that can be given in any crisis. It is clear that many millions will financially lose in this situation (largely the middle and working classes, who are likely to be squeezed past breaking point in many cases), but who will gain? Who gained from the last (conventional) war when Iraq needed re-building and large contracts were ripe for the picking?

Meanwhile;
'Put that light out!' was the cry all over the land in WWII.
'Put that human freedom out!' could well be the cry for this war, if we are not careful.

Ah well, at least I've stocked up on my bread and circuses for the week. Now for my prescribed hour's exercise on a deserted bit of shoreline.

You've Had Your Chips - a short story

noreply@blogger.com (The Poet Laura-eate) — Wed, 01 Apr 2020 21:59:00 +0000

You’ve Had Your Chips

At first it seemed a marvellous idea. A microchip implant which meant you never had to carry (or lose) money, keys or ID ever again. What freedom! Especially for someone like Sarah who had a brain like a sieve and was forever forgetting things. Once she had even lost a flight through forgetting her passport!

Sarah was indeed the first in her neighbourhood to have the implant and extol the benefits of a smaller handbag to all her friends, neighbours and colleagues, though eventually it became mandatory, so she needn’t have worried.

Of course she felt a bit sorry for all the locksmiths, shopkeepers and others who lost out when keys and cash became a thing of the past, particularly the homeless. Though strangely the homeless soon started disappearing from the streets, so presumably they had solved the homelessness crisis. Either way, it was nice to see clean streets again and not get accosted every time she went out.

The council grew satisfyingly efficient. They always remembered to start the birdsong tape at six every morning to brighten everyone's day. So much better than the old days of slippery bird poo and scavenged binbags everywhere. They also lined the streets with attractive no maintenance plastic trees which never shed any leaves or caused any root damage and each remained green all year round possessing a discreet solar panel at the top to power the driverless vehicle plugged in at pavement level.

Years went by and things became more and more expensive with transaction charges added to every electronic purchase but Sarah didn’t worry too much. They had to pay for all this new technology after all. And it was so convenient. She just went out less in the evening and had fewer holidays. Anyway you could get some lovely second hand clothes these days. She had never realised before.

Then one day Sarah went into work and it was announced there would be a special departmental meeting at 11am. Sarah wondered what it could be about. She soon found out. Her department was being closed and they were all being made redundant. Those closer to retirement age weren’t so upset and immediately started planning all the holidays they were going to have, much to the irritation of younger staff like Sarah.

From that day forward Sarah went into overdrive applying for new jobs. She had never been unemployed in her life before and wasn’t about to start claiming benefits now. No money wasting holidays for her. However many of the jobs she was qualified for in banking no longer existed. The electronic technology was rendering them useless, hence the closure of her department.

Eventually six months and many interviews later Sarah landed a job in a bank of a different kind, a DNA bank where she became a risk calculator for insurance companies. It was better paid and Sarah reveled in her tenth floor glass office – the first office she’d ever had all to herself.

To celebrate Sarah decided to throw a party inviting all her former colleagues. Only seven turned up out of the thirty people Sarah had worked with. Out of those thirty it turned out that fourteen had died. Sarah was shocked. She had been so absorbed in looking for a new job, she had only kept in touch with one colleague who was equally determined to find another job, Lisa, who had eventually taken a pay cut to work in an Estate Agents. Jeff the relationship manager had been killed in a car crash but the others it seemed, had all died of heart conditions, even Paul and Jason, who had only been in their forties, one while running a marathon.

‘I can hardly believe it.’ Said Lisa.

‘I know.’ Said David.

‘We must be jinxed! Maybe we should all go for heart tests.’

‘That’s not a bad idea.’ Stuart chipped in. ‘I saw Jason’s widow the other day. She said just before he collapsed that he had a tingling pain in his right arm.’

‘I thought heart attacks affected the left’ said David.

‘So did I’ said Sarah. ‘And I’ve had to learn a bit about medical conditions for my new job.’

‘She said much as she misses him, the insurance has come in handy as he was about to run out of money after their cruise.’ added Stuart.

‘Nice’ said David. ‘I hope my wife doesn’t say the same about me if I conk out. We’re also about to run out of money if I don’t get that departmental job I’ve just gone for. ‘

‘Well as long as you haven’t got a tingling pain in your right arm, you should be alright.’ joked Stuart.

David blanched. ‘Funny you should say that.’ He said. ‘Here. Pass me that fish knife.’

‘Why. What are you going to do with it?’ asked Stuart.

‘Something I suspect we may all need to do.’ replied David.

They watched as he rolled up his shirt sleeve, tied a napkin tourniquet around his arm and used the tip of the fish knife to extract the microchip.

Disruption Is Not A Sexy Word

noreply@blogger.com (The Poet Laura-eate) — Thu, 26 Mar 2020 15:32:00 +0000

I fervently hope that when we get to the end of the ghastly CO-VID situation, it will put an end to any notion that 'disruption' is any way exciting or sexy.

It is not.

It is destruction by another name.

Destruction of the good stuff as well as the stuff that needs re-thinking. It is no discriminator of what it destroys; livelihoods, families, mental health, physical health, our freedoms and choices, our human history and heritage - it really couldn't care less.

And at least one company has been doing it for years, yet strangely it's not exciting or sexy when Southern Rail does disruption!

It's a head frack!

So let's stop this celebration of all things disruptive and broken and turn our attention to mending them to the best of our ability.

Let's put the 'sexy' into consistency, reliability, loyalty and sanity. And prove that creativity can still be a viable bedfellow to these if it's fear of loss of creativity that makes disruption seem attractive.

And while certainty is something that can never be guaranteed we know that few people thrive on instability. On not knowing where their next meal or pay cheque will be coming from. We know what causes people to spiral and stop striving to be their best selves.

I also fervently hope that this crisis will not be used as an excuse to close libraries, museums, post offices, community centres, places of worship, art galleries, pubs, cafes, tourist attractions and everything else that facilitates social contact and cohesion, It seems an odd co-incidence that just as we are being driven towards an online cashless faceless society of social isolation, along comes a virus which drives us even further into the soulless vacuum of an online cashless faceless society of social isolation!

Let us also not forget that a good 20% of the population, either through age, disability or illness are not part of the online world and face complete discrimination and disenfranchisement if their currency is no longer legal tender for the brave new world ahead.

So thanks for the dolphins in the Venetian canals, but no thanks for the panic-demic, the deaths and the excuse for a police state. As soon as my fellow human beings stop being weapons of mass destruction, I for one, want to be amongst them again!

Muse at Ten - Mass Mind Power Experiment to Heal the CV Situation (and world)

noreply@blogger.com (The Poet Laura-eate) — Sat, 21 Mar 2020 20:31:00 +0000

Fed up with being scared silly watching the doom and gloom on News at Ten each night and having a bad night's sleep as a result? Well why not do something about it? Why not switch off the news, switch off social media and take ten minutes out to join me (LIVE from your living room) in a mass thought power experiment to heal the CV situation (and world)? I think we can all agree that the world needs all the healing it can get at the moment. Here's how to join in Muse at Ten; (and please spread the word). At 10pm each night, find a quiet comfortable place, take a few slow and deep breaths and ask the universe (or your God) to dissolve the virus. Visualise everyone in every country affected rising from their sick beds and feeling 100% well again. Envisage, shops, restaurants, pubs, schools, libraries and everything else you value re-opening and blossoming again. Spend about ten minutes focusing on healing everyone and everything affected. You can start with our city and then expand your energy beam of focus wider and wider into healing the whole country and healing the world and planet generally. Think of all the other people doing the same as you. Feel the power of intention in every pore. Imagine you are a channel for the power of good intent. Let’s see what people power can do! If nothing happens at least it will help us feel better and healthier than watching the news! Tip To help you focus, it is worth doing one of the following; light a candle or hold a crystal, lucky charm or talisman during your meditation. If you believe in angels, saints or other spiritual beings, you can ask for their help too (Archangel Raphael is for healing) For the naysayers reading this, It is a known fact that mental states - in particular the negative ones of fear, isolation, loneliness and anxiety have a HUGE impact on mental and physical health and vulnerability to illness and infection. Therefore let us boost the opposite mental states of calm, love, healing, positivity and a Dunkirk spirit generally of helping our neighbours. Hopefully we can also boost our immune systems in so doing. If improving our own mental states is the only positive outcome of this experiment, then that alone is worth it.

Keep Calm and Carry On!

noreply@blogger.com (The Poet Laura-eate) — Thu, 12 Mar 2020 11:59:00 +0000

The famous British 'stiff upper lip' may be unfashionable and even mocked in the world of woke but the wobbly lip simply doesn't serve us!

I am shocked that the 'nuclear option' of potential economic ruin is even being considered re putting Britain on lockdown over what is, essentially, a particularly nasty dose of flu. And sadly every flu epidemic brings deaths.

Here are my emergency measures if I ruled the country:

Personal Safety Measures

· Boost immune system with plenty of sleep, good hygiene, nutritious food and vitamin C and don’t let yourself get run down or dehydrated

· Don’t kiss babies, toddlers or the very elderly or sick on the face.

· Don’t kiss pets

· Wash hands with soap each time you go indoors/feed your pet/change a nappy/prepare food etc.
Clean your mobile phones, remote controls and keyboards daily

· No public handshaking, hugging or kissing. Reserve intimacy for intimates.

· Carry a packet of tissues around at all times (coughs and sneezes spread diseases) and don’t spit in public.

· Don’t buy uncovered food or share food and wash all fruit and vegetables before using.

· Extra measure: Face masks are not known for efficacy but wearing latex gloves can be more beneficial. The Queen has a habit of wearing normal gloves (replaced every day) to reduce her own exposure to germs. They are not just an accessory to her outfits. And she is apparently hardly ever sick.
Invest in a thermometer and check your temperature every day. If it's above normal, self isolate.

· Keep calm and carry on! Business as usual.

Public Safety Measures

· Invest in temperature scanners at airports, train stations, shopping centres and venues to pick up anyone with a high temperature who might need further testing.

· Bring back public ban on spitting or coughing/sneezing without handkerchief (as used to exist to prevent spread of TB) and chewing gum deposits as well. Extend to sports pitches and activities.

· Isolate only those who need isolating. Keep everything else open for business as usual

· Reopen any closed wards or nursing homes as emergency isolation centres and offer incentives to NHS staff to come out of retirement to staff them.

· No buffets or food sharing

· No uncovered food in cafes, restaurants or shops

· Cleanse public building and public transport door handles daily and businesses need to cleanse shop trolley and basket handles

· Keep calm and carry on! Business as usual.

A pandemic of panic helps no one and the stress of being triggered into a heightened or
prolonged state of anxiety is enough to bring many people’s immune systems down and
render them vulnerable to infections.

The Great Online Heist of Real Life

noreply@blogger.com (The Poet Laura-eate) — Sun, 01 Mar 2020 19:39:00 +0000

Noticing that Brighton and Hove's William Hill betting shops have closed down the other week, it's time for serious questions to be asked when even the parasites are leaving town!

'Disruption' may be the sexy buzz word, but the collateral damage of disruption appears to be an increasingly impoverished gig economy with diminishing job security and a generation (Z) growing up now who have little hope of ever owning, even through inheritance, their own homes.

Below is a round up of the great online heist of real life so far. Makes one wonder what the intention is for all these people put out of work with first a major loss of industry in this country and now a growing lack of service industry jobs in the following categories, particularly as we are relentlessly funneled towards a cashless self-service society. 'Smart' technology is a major driver in this non-consensual future we are heading towards.

A friend who works in AI believes the eventual aim is that machines and robots will take over the everyday business of living for us and we will all be given 'an allowance' on which to live, which sounds ominous enough. Implanted chips in our bodies will serve for ID, door keys and all manner of other functions. But why keep us alive at all if we are not even any use as consumers any more? The mind boggles.

Meanwhile here's what's disappearing from our High Streets and from our lives whether we like it (or voted for it) or not;

Betting shops
Travel Agents
Railway ticket offices
Bus ticket offices
Box offices (theatres and cinemas)
Banks (and cash points)
Building societies
Post Offices
Libraries
Community Centres
Pubs
Churches
Petrol stations
Magistrates courts
Shops (more and more shopping is online, not just owing to convenience, but because people's disposable income is falling and parking has become extortionate)
Cobblers (most shoes are moulded, not repairable)
Garages and body shops (fewer cars are repairable and increasing numbers are written off by insurance companies, which used to be fixed. as being 'economically unrepairable')
Computer repair shops (fewer computers are fixable or upgradeable and many now need to be thrown away)
Appliance repairs (appliances have become more throwaway and less economically repairable)
Council clerks
Call Centres
Opticians
Hotels and guest houses (now being usurped by Air BnB, despite lack of safeguards and insurance)
Newspapers and magazines
Publishing

Once we have self-driving vehicles and trains, guess what else will go!

Yes, taxi, bus and train drivers. This is no minor revolution but a seismic shift to society from which it is unlikely to recover if we cannot see the jobs rising up to replace all those which will be lost. '

Divide and rule appears to be what's happening. Drive everyone online, encourage social isolation and addictions, throw us lots of distracting bread and circuses (including plenty of of issues, major and minor to worry about). Then we are ripe for the heist, to be filleted and robbed of that is real and true from our lives including our money.

From Cheer to Fear

noreply@blogger.com (The Poet Laura-eate) — Tue, 11 Feb 2020 20:54:00 +0000

While my childhood in the 1980s wasn't the happiest, I was aware that around me was an optimistic society.

Our hair was big and our pop music was bouncy (if you didn't count The Smiths). A particular favourite of mine was Mental as Anything's 'Live it Up' (below), which never failed to boost my spirits.

We'd somehow successfully navigated the threat of Nuclear war, oil running out and the closure of the pits and most of us looked forward to the future.

Clothes and pop music were eagerly devoured with the lines to all our favourite songs learned from 'Smash Hits' magazine or 'Jackie'. Pop star pull-outs lined our bedroom walls.

No one cared about looking like a supermodel. In fact we only had models. Supermodels hadn't yet been invented. However we accepted that very few people looked like a model and were happy with 'pretty' and aspired, if anything, to 'girl next door' in terms of looks. That winning combination of wholesomeness and prettiness.

Drugs were virtually unheard of in the Irish town where I grew up. Glue sniffing was about it and many of us bought (or were bought) a single of 'Just Say No!' by the Grange Hill cast. Our teachers still walked around with a cane under their arm (at least in my first year) - gesture enough to keep the vast majority of us in line at school - as we knew they had the power to use it.

When I did school work experience on my local newspaper and was paired with Don, the 'Courts & Sports' reporter, crime was low level. the odd stolen ladder or charity box. Father Ted genre crimes.

While our homes tended to be decorated in various shades of brown and our parents' cars beige, we ourselves were colourful and any clothing, particularly involving a fluorescent zigzag paired with a RaRa skirt, was a must. We also loved experimenting with make up and hair.

We enjoyed thriving shops, libraries, community centres, pubs, cinemas and nightclubs. Banks, Post Offices and ticket offices were plentiful as were jobs. If we wanted something we generally had to work for it and save for it, but that made the acquiring of it all the sweeter. You had to be about 50 with a mortgage to be trusted by the bank with a credit card. Luckily our cheque books and cash did us just fine.

If we had time to feel blue from our busy social lives, we just felt blue for a while. No one called it 'depression' or 'anxiety'.

You had to sit and wait for the phone not to ring to get your heart broken, not have it mercilessly shattered within seconds of checking on your love interest's internet or mobile phone activity.

No one seemed to worry about their weight or what they had or hadn't been blessed with in the body part lottery. Or at least if they did, they never talked about it. Life was for living, for getting on with.

Fast forward to today and we have a society which seems ever more miserable and fearful, even though it's never known more material goods and comfort and enjoys international travel we could only dream of!

We have allergies that kill us (as oppose to merely being a nuisance) and people with anxiety and depression from a young age.

Yes, we have tackled many of our 'isms', but as societal acceptance has grown, other intolerances seem to have risen up to take their place. In the good old days friends could have a difference of opinion without falling out over it. That level of diversity seems to have evaporated. I believe we have also become less caring about each other and more selfish as a nation. I remember people sticking up for each other and helping each other as communities. I remember respect for the elderly. What happened? And how could social isolation become the number one social ill in an unprecedented era of electronic connectivity?

Social mobility was also important. Now most wealth is going one way - in an upwards direction - to those who already have far too much of it. This is having a crippling effect on the rest of the economy, akin to a tourniquet cutting off the blood supply to the rest of the body. Debt has been turned into credit - abracadabra!

Our tramps (who often took to the road by choice) have been replaced by homeless in ever increasing numbers.

Addictions of all varieties are skyrocketing and it is not uncommon to find people in their 20s complaining of a level of ill health they might have expected to encounter in their 60s.

As if we needed any more woes, we are warned there is a 'climate emergency' but are not told what we are supposed to do about it, apart from worry and find ourselves fleeced for ever more taxes, greener cars, greener boilers etc, usually within a few short years of replacing the previous for environmental reasons.

The TV news has almost become a no go area with its carpet-bombing of doom and gloom.

Perhaps that is why we still find so much 80s music playing everywhere we go. It reminds us all of how life should be. Buoyant and optimistic. Looking forward to a bright future!

I for one refuse to live in fear. Let's all make this our mantra.