I love the West Wing. It still rates as one of the most well informed and influential series of the genre. Its speeches have been stolen by people who have osmosed its hope for a better way of doing politics. When we watch it today it holds a very particular kind of resonance because it demonstrates a civility that has been drowned in a sea of hate. It has positive images of a wrestled out faith, is rich with camaraderie and pith and is just good telly. But its bad for me. It pains me to admit this, but the West Wing makes me think I can change the world in a way that is simply not helpful. It holds out the present hope that the world can turn on a single conversation. With the brave statement or right turn of phrase one might change the debate, and in turn might change the world entire. The moment in the Oval where they realise that if they take no credit they can save social security. The moment where Donna remembers to pay welfare payments. The realisation that all the NATO people a…
Some of my earliest memories are of Sunday mornings. There
was one which seemed to involve being in a big hall colouring pictures, but I
didn’t much like that, so the memories that have stuck are of sitting outside.
Now, I love outside, it calms me, so pretty much any outdoor activity would
have held some thrall for my turbulent child self. But the family Sunday
activity was football.
When I was very small my Dad played. He was past his glory
days by the time I can remember. The cartilage in his knees had run out before
the rest of his body- and so much of my memory of him was as he “ran the
line”.I’m pretty sure he sometimes did
that in wellies, but its been a long time.
Sunday football was part of our life. We would go to the
game and then mum would join us as we had drinks at the social club next door.
It’s why I drank beer from the age of eight and could snaffle my way through
about a thousand calories of crisps in a sitting.
And then we would go home, have a massive roast and w…
It is still early, only twenty four hours since many of us
woke up to find that what we had hoped did not happen. The referendum, for many
is lost, and the reaction is fierce. What follows are a few ideas of how to
navigate the next wee while.
If this hurts, hurt. If it make us feel scared, be scared.
Anger and blame are great displacements- and they have their moment (which is
still now, don’t just squash it) - but get as close to the real feelings as you
can. And take that moment to acknowledge that for many of us part of the
challenge is that we are not used to getting our own way.
If you are reading this, the outcome is worse for many other
people. They may have voted for it, but they will suffer. Be kind. And be kind
to those who are very fearful. Being an EU worker at this moment must feel
pretty grim. Be kind.
How many of us have run our phone batteries dry in the last
24 hours? The urge to check social media and keep abreast of what s going on is…