Balance

 

Hello everyone. I come to you this evening, from under the first sofa blanket of the season, watching the skies for the storm that is apparently about to engulf us all. I have suggested that we might like to put the heating on for half an hour - just to see that it is working ok, obviously. However, my idea has been vetoed by Head of House, which is unusual because I don't usually take that much notice of him when he is forbidding me. Actually, the weather is quite nice around here. The sky is a bit dramatic, but that's all. I have just spent an upsetting few minutes shouting at Manchester United on the radio, which is pointless but makes me feel better. I am far more depressed about football results than an adult has any right to be, especially during the current climate, when there are plenty of real-world issues to get upset about. 

I am, by nature, quite a shallow person, and people are, with good reason, not queueing up for my take on current world events. However, can I give you some thoughts? Do you mind? I'm doing it anyway. 

• Usually, I would say that the days after a person's violent death are not the days to be commenting on the things that they said when they were alive. This is a time for mourning and grief. However, when those who supported him seem not to be bothered by this moratorium on political comment, it follows that it will open the whole thing up to polarising political debate. Good and bad. It's the nature of the beast. Christians have been surprised by receiving a negative backlash to a simple, positive online obituary. Unfortunately, this awful event is chock full of politics on both sides, and no one should be surprised. 
• Cards on the table, I am, by historical background, a Labour supporter as were all my family (except for my father, who was a Maggie-loving, Manchester City supporting Tory who once threatened to withhold a contribution to a money box for the blind on a high street until he had satisfied himself that the money wasn't for the miners. In his defence, he had grown up as a Labour supporter but had, after much careful thought and Bible study, changed his views. Like many things, it is complicated.) I understand the furore around Angela Raynor's little contretemps with the Revenue and Tax Departments, and I understand why she had to go. (although I do notice that Sir Ed Davey, who had no interest in rescuing Ms Raynor, had said that many parents of disabled children, worried about what would happen after they died, were trying to do the same thing by putting their houses into trusts for their children and had fallen foul of the same rules). However, the unalloyed joy with which certain newspapers and politicians have greeted the result of their relentless pursuit of her is awful. (Nothing to do with her being a working-class northern woman, I am sure). 
• Immigration is obviously a complex subject. - No, seriously, despite all the noise, it is complicated. And, just to take the non-obvious point, if you live somewhere where the management of immigrants has been poor, resulting in huge cultural changes in your area, I don't think it is helpful to just yell "Jesus was an immigrant!" and leave people to it. 
• I cannot think of any circumstance  - ever - where it is right for an unelected billionaire to call for the overthrow of a democratically elected government. We all need to be very, very snippy about that indeed. As a general rule (and I suppose that there may always be an exception), billionaires are not your friend and they do not have your best interests at heart  - easier for camels to get through the eyes of needles and all that. (although that is apparently doable if you liquidise the camel). No one ever became a squillionaire through devotion to the poor and lowly. 

This morning, at church, we had the dedication of two Nigerian heritage, very delicious babies. There were two big rumbustious families, many of whom arrived fashionably late and marched unapologetically to the front of the church to join in. One young, very glamorous lady, who looked like she had come straight from a Stormzy video, sashayed straight to the front, attracting the attention of all the young chaps in the youth in a way that the weekly church notices never have. Everyone was dressed up to the nines, looking fabulous, and they were all a noisy bundle of joy. Culturally, they were very different to what we are used to - I'm not sure that I have ever seen anyone taking selfies in front of the cross in the foyer before - but this gang enriched our whole morning. Just a lesson, maybe in being able to see the problem, but be both challenged and comforted by the huge and wonderful diversity in the human race. 

On a less highfalutin' note, we spent some time wandering around a pop-up exhibition about the Royal William Yard, which is just down the road from us. The Yard used to be part of a naval base containing all that a navy might need - a uniform store, a rum distillery, a slaughterhouse for meat, etc. It's now all been redeveloped to posh apartments, cafes and shops and is one of our favourite places to wander around. The exhibition was excellent - very informative. Did you know that sailors were advised to dip their ship's biscuits in rum so that the mites drowned and floated to the top? Lovely. 

Also, just to confirm that I am probably not the person you want to come to for deep spiritual and moral advice, the thing I remember most about the exhibition was this little scrap of news next to a big report on the navy. Blimey, how disgusting was that house, do you think? Seven times! Always looking up at the stars, that's me.

Have a good week.