Edge of Darkness

-


We have gotten ourselves into a particularly nasty bind; we have managed, somehow to vote in a Government with such a significant majority that they would seem unassailable, indeed untouchable. Unfortunately for us, the sorry fact is that they have little idea of how to actually govern and are ill-advised by those who hold plainly psychopathic views on how society should work.

The extent to which they have abnegated their responsibilities, shirked and generally avoided actually dealing with the day-to-day grind of running the country has been staggering. The Opposition has very little leverage to act given that majority, but surely, at some point in this narrative, the Government will fall foul for simply not doing the job they are so handsomely paid for. One would hope that common sense will eventually prevail, but waiting so long for the next election presages more cock-ups and self-interested stitch-ups.

I firmly believe that the downfall of this ridiculous administration will come from their own ranks; that their back-benchers will turn on them at some point in the hopefully-not-too-distant future, because of their cavalier and callous treatment of their own. The 1922 Committee, which I despise with all my being, will probably be the mechanism that unhinges this woeful bunch and pushes us towards much needed change.

The BBC series 'Edge of Darkness' from the early eighties is still a touchstone for us in Fairview Heights. Its basic premise was that all stand weak against nature. We all die, but ultimately the planet survives without us, healing itself by removing us through our own actions: the Gaia principle. Climate change and political idiocy are two sides of the same coin. One follows from the other. In the case of this Tory Government, their black-flower-instigated extinction will be from their own wall-flowers, their despised and much abused back-benchers. All I can say is, I can't wait...

Comments

Post a Comment

Popular posts from this blog

Of Feedback & Wobbles

-
Image
Many years ago I came up with an analogy for poorly damped feedback loops. The feedback loop that prompted this frankly tart analogy was indeed a horror. Anyone who remembers shame-faced their first attempts at clutch control resulting in the good old kangaroo launch across the lights only to stall in the middle of the crossroads will have some idea of the kind of data transfer lag involved in said system. The analogy I made was that of a large blancmange. Untouched, a model of stasis and eminently stable and predictable; but prod the bugger and the resultant chaotic behaviour needs a very complex physical model and some very decent computing horsepower to predict its outputs, if at all. The system in question was a large and complex audio-visual display at what eventually became 'The Electric Mountain' in Llanberis. We were ultimately contracted to maintain the thing having been witness to and peripherally involved in its installation. Certainly not involved in its des...
Read more

A Time of Connection

-
Image
I was just reflecting on the vacuum of continuity that's left behind when someone dies: that sudden sense of disjoint, of fracture, in one's personal history that takes one completely by surprise at the oddest moments. These pinch-points in memory can often yield some surprising revelations of fact about periods in one's past. One such occurred to me tonight, tending my rather lazy meal of pizza in its journey from shrink-wrap to mouth via the oven. Al's recent demise still catches me out from time to time: the space he left bounded by forty plus years of friendship. But the thing that struck me tonight was just how much change was happening on a personal and social level in the very early years of our acquaintance. Between moving here from Birmingham in September 1980 and our buying our first proper house eighteen months later, all manner of things occurred that would chart the course of our lives to the present day. At around the time of our meeting Alan & Irene [...
Read more

Sister Ray

-
Image
Ray Keats - aka Ann Key - local artist & family friend, died this morning. She'd been ill for some years, but never let it get in the way of her work or of tending to the massive network of friends, colleagues and fans she had accumulated over the decades. Her house on the High Street of Rachub, just below where we live - a former cockle factory(!) - bought many years ago when she and her late husband Ronald moved here from Manchester to set up home in Yr Achub, is currently still home to her paintings and drawings, and the front window displays her work, including the last drawing she made in hospital, just days before she died. Her good friend Colin has been a diamond in her latter years, looking out for her and just being there when she needed him. She will be much missed by this tiny community of ageing bohemians up here in the hills, but suffice it to say, George, her cat, will be well looked after now she's gone.
Read more