In the wee small hours, while it was still dark outside, I was woken by heavy rain on the roof, hammering on the skylight windows. I mean REALLY heavy rain, sounding as if someone was throwing stones at the house, and yet not sounding like hailstones. Amazing! So I was astounded to wake up (again) a couple of hours later to blue sky and sunshine, one of those perfect autumn days. So my brother-in-law has suggested another Diggle Chippy Hike.
In our Italian class online we have been talking about the differences between North and South, principally in Italy but also having a semi-serious look at the situation in the UK. One of our number suggested that we don’t really have a regional divide in this country so much as a class divide, or even a wealth divide. He’s probably right. We have all moved around so much for work and studies that regional differences proper have been ironed out. And the industrial revolution happened early in the UK, creating another division: city and country. It got us all talking. Stereotypes
Anyway, last night in the news I heard an MP - I forget exactly who - in say that in the South of the country “culture” means opera and ballet, while in the North it means your local football club. He was immediately challenged and agreed that he “misspoke”. To put it into context, they were discussing the plight of small football clubs, which are in dire financial straits because they rely so much on fans going through the turnstiles. They need financial assistance or they will disappear for ever but they fall through all sorts of cracks - not small businesses, not recognised as “arts”, although the arts are suffering in a big way too.
But the stereotype the MP came out with says such a lot. Of course the North has “culture”. There is Opera North, the Royal Northern College of Music, theatres of high repute all over the place, the Tate in Liverpool and other art galleries, again all over the place. And of course the South has small football clubs which depend on their supporters and are suffering just like Northern clubs. As my friend in the Italian class said, it’s much more a class and money divide than anything else.
Fun and games seem to kicking off at 10 Downing Street, with people I’ve never heard (Lee Cain, director of communications, apparently) of walking out and now the suggestion that Dominic Cummings might be out by Christmas. Will he end up in the House of Lords? That’s a question to ponder. What I am pondering is why in the midst of all the kerfuffle did it turn out that Carrie Symonds, aka Almost Mrs Boris, was involved in the shake-up. She objected to suggestions of promotion for Mr Cain to chief of staff. Since when did spouses of prime ministers wield power? That prime ministers discuss things with their spouses is inevitable but that those spouses have some kind of veto is a different matter altogether, no matter what their political experience. As far as I know, nobody voted Almost Mrs Boris into any position at all.
At this rate, I’ll be signing off as Indignant of Delph!
But never mind. It seems we are to have an extra bank holiday in 2022 in celebration of the queen’s platinum jubilee. 70 years on the throne. Assuming we can have parties by then, people will no doubt be encouraged to organise street parties. Bunting and sausage rolls for all.
Life goes on. Stay safe and well, everyone!
No comments:
Post a Comment