There comes a moment when decisions have to be taken and you have to stand up and be counted. Now might be one of them. If the UK is asked to sign an arrest warrant for Netanyahu, what will the decision be?
As regards accepting gifts, I hear that a decision has been taken: the Prime Minister and his deputy will no longer accept gifts of clothes. Fair enough!
I read this article about the actress Imogen Poots in which she talks about working in the Palestinian West Bank with Palestinian actor Saleh Bakri, on a film called The Teacher.
Here’s one small section:
“On one of her days off, she and Bakri headed to the beach in Haifa, which was about 90 minutes away from where they were staying in Nablus. “I told the man at our hotel where we were going, and asked if he visited the beach often. He said, ‘I don’t have an ID card, so I’ve never been.’ He’s been looking at the sea for his entire life but has never been able to reach it.”
…
We went to Hebron and there were streets which my Palestinian friend was not permitted to walk on because the military had oppressed that right. These were all normalised things that I was gawping at.””
This was before the 10th October attack. Such things have long been a normal part of life over there.
I’ve been out to lunch today with an old friend and colleague. For years we’ve met up from time to time to go for a walk along canal towpaths, up hills, round local reservoirs. This year, between her arthritis problems and our stop-start summer, we’ve not managed to do so. So, instead we agreed to meet in Manchester and go for a pizza together and put the world to rights, swopping notes on our various grandchildren at the same time.
Despite her arthritis, which sometimes leaves her almost immobilised, she has regularly gone and stood with pro-Palestine protestors in recent months. She finds marches hard work but standing, for example, outside her MP’s office where she can find something to lean on, she has managed fine. She tells me that some of her protest is also anti-Germany, her home country, a place she has decided not to return to because so many of her former friends there have become ardent zionists.
We put the world more or less to rights and went our separate ways. I thought that for once my travel was perfectly coordinated. I got off the tram at Oldham Mumps and had only a few minutes to wait for a bus to Delph. As a rule Sod’s Law kicks in and I get off the tram just in time to see the bus depart. Today’s bus arrived exactly on time. The driver ushered us on board and stepped off to make a phone call … to discover where his replacement driver was! Half an hour later we were still waiting. The original driver had gone off for his regulation break.
Some lucky passengers were able to get off and catch a different bus going in their direction. Those of us going to Delph were stuck. After about half an hour the next scheduled bus arrived. We got off the first bus and got on the second. Polite enquiries led to our discovering that this driver too was due for a 30 minutes break! However, he assured us that a replacement would be along in five minutes. 10 or maybe 15 minutes later, said replacement driver arrived, apologising for the delay!
There is a shortage of drivers, apparently! Which surprises me considering how many buses I have seen this week with the notice ‘Not in service - driver in training!’
So it goes.
Life goes on. Stay safe and well, everyone!
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