Sunshine. Some political nostalgia. And a bit of poetry.

We started off with another fine day this morning. 

It clouded over later but not at all bad for autumn.

Here’s an interesting bit of nostalgia about the Labour Party: 

“Labour’s historic mission has been to ensure a good standard of living through decent wages, access to health services and education not dependent on what you could pay, and housing you could afford. But above all else Labour pledged to build a society where poverty would no longer exist by creating a safety net to ensure the most vulnerable, children and unemployed, sick, elderly or disabled people, were no longer at risk.

To achieve all this, the postwar Labour government introduced the most progressive, civilising innovation in our country’s history, the welfare state, funded by a redistributive system of taxation. Any budget under a Labour government since then should be measured on its contribution to achieving this mission.”

Someone needs to remind our current politicians about this. 

And here, courtesy of Michael Rosen is a reminder of what used to be and what might be again: 

“The rent collector or 'House Jobber' could be a dreaded reminder of the lack of funds and imminent homelessness. This depiction in 1883 shows the desperation that many poor families lived in.”

And since I seem to be borrowing stuff from the estimable Mr Rosen, here’s some of his poetry:

Palestinians don't count.

Palestinians don't have names

Palestinians aren't Palestinian.

Palestine isn't Palestine.

Palestine wasn't Palestine.

There is no such word as Palestine.

There is no such word as Palestinian.

The land, (that the people who say they are Palestinian call Palestinian land), is not Palestinian land

The house (that a person who says they're Palestinian, is a Palestinian house),  

is not a Palestinian house.

In fact, the house is not a house. 

In fact, the person is not a person.

Palestinians don't count.

I think that says it all.

Fortunately, I am able to provide for my family - cooking a Sunday dinner is what I am about to return to - and don’t have to fear that they will be thrown out or blown up.

Life goes on. Stay safe and well, everyone!