As this is Number 57, there will be plenty of variety today, and I don’t give a can of beans what you think.
It’s approaching 11am as I write, so I will have to take two minutes out for remembrance at that point. Forgive me if there’s a short pause. I’m also hectic today with bucketloads of washing to do, floors to be washed, silver to be polished and my hair’s a dreadful mess. In these gender-neutral days I’m not sure if I’m pink, blue or a delicate shade of mauve.
There’s a headline on the front page of today’s Times that says “Students turn against free speech amid ‘culture of conformity'”. According to the article, fewer than half of students consistently support freedom of speech and two fifths (that’s 40%) favour censorship and (sic) no-platforming (The Times?!) of controversial speakers. Ally that with last week’s…..(sorry it’s 11)
……(this definitely won’t be The Last Post) news that a local education authority has banned children from playing Tag in the playground because it’s too dangerous. What are PLAYgrounds for?!! Saints preserve us, where are we going. All this would be laughable if it wasn’t so deadly serious. I and my fellow golf commentators now have regular dinner conversations about how we have to pause every time before we open our mouths to ensure we aren’t going to offend somebody, somewhere.
It’s wonderful that women have got the vote and will soon have equal pay, hopefully, and equal everything else. It’s great that homosexual men can snog in public without fear of chemical neutering, that lesbians walk down the street holding hands without being accused of being dutch waterways, that society is generally more caring than once it was……or is it? My parents generation knew how to look after neighbours and people less well off than themselves. My mother was constantly visiting the sick and elderly, mainly because of her strongly held Christian beliefs. They fought an awful war to uphold our democratic principles and rights to free speech. They and we, were also brought up to be considerably tougher and more resilient than many of today’s youth. How they must be turning in their graves if they are long-suffering enough to still be paying attention to what’s going on in this dangerously evolving society.
As I write, Classic FM is playing “Fanfare for the Common Man” in the background. It always brings back memories of the first time I heard it, which was at The Royal Tournament at Earls Court, a hugely spectacular showpiece that I used to commentate on. How long will it be I wonder before Westminster Council decides that the Naval Gun Race is too dangerous (yes it is dangerous, but that’s why the competing teams love it and why the crowds love watching it) and decide that it must be carried out with cardboard and papier maché guns? Or that the brilliant display of charging horse-drawn gun carriages by the King’s Troop Royal Horse Artillery requires too much skill and equine courage to be safe and must therefore be carried out at the walk? That would be exciting. Or that the counter-marching Massed Bands of the Royal Marines pose a serious threat, lest one of the trombonists over-extends his slide and catches a trumpeter on the ear? Yes, all utterly stupid, but no more crazy than so many of the news stories that hit us daily.
The front page of The Thunderer also has a splendid photo of the poppy-laden Queen, all in black, eyes shut, her face in repose, as she stands on the Foreign Office balcony overlooking a crowded and silent Whitehall, full of serving and ex-servicemen and many others who’ve given loyal and outstanding service to their country. Oh and Jeremy Corbyn.
A penny for your thoughts, Your Majesty. Actually, I’d pay a lot more than a penny.
ADayInTheStrifeOf 