But Libya is not the Isle of Wight, and oil engineers sent to work there knew that when they took the job. I assume they are paid handsomely for working in the middle of the desert in a country run by a mercurial and ruthless dictator. Big oil companies pay huge insurance premiums for just this kind of crisis. They are used to working in tough places. Yet to hear all the hyperventilation back in Britain, it is shameful that a BP plane should be used to evacuate British citizens from Libya. Why? Why should it not be the responsibility of their wealthy, resourceful and experienced employers to get them out? Or does holding a British passport entitle you to be plucked from any spot on earth by an aircraft of the Queen’s Flight, loaded with fresh cucumber sandwiches?
Author: Araminta
The Political Wife : Going back
Going back
She drifted in New York. The first week away was a blur and she alternated between frantic socialising and staying in her room at the hotel and cutting herself off. She did not allow herself to think too deeply about anything, and her future was just that, the future; something to be considered but not just yet.
She felt no guilt whatsoever; no emotional turmoil, no regrets, no self- recrimination. Nothing. She just lived for the moment and slept when she felt cut off from humanity. She refused any contact with home and moved through New York in a disconnected way. She enjoyed it but despised the shallowness whilst acknowledging her inability to connect with humanity in more than superficial and selfish sort of way. She slept off the excesses and did not dream.
Cold Comfort
I’m not entirely sure if I should indentify with Flora or Aunt Ada Doom these last few days.
No time for the computer, much too sedentary an occupation for the mini ice-age which descended unexpectedly just before the weekend.
Major central heating failure; so the best hope for survival was Movement! Dashing about, cleaning, journeys in the car; almost anything but sitting still at my desk.
I did feel just a little isolated but the house looks much cleaner. Oddly, I now cannot settle, and it feels treacherously decadent to wake up to a warm house. Perhaps we are really rather spoilt.
Assimilation depends on a shared sense of national pride
If we radiate no sense of pride, no community of identity, we make it much harder for settlers to want to belong. If we deride and traduce the concept of patriotism, if we teach that the nation-state is finished, if we affect to believe that British history was a hateful chronicle of racism and exploitation, if we insist that we’re all Europeans now, we can hardly be surprised if people – whether long-settled or the children of immigrants – begin to cast around for alternative identities.
Continue reading “Assimilation depends on a shared sense of national pride”
Dear Diary
Battery charged: check.
Camera set on “Dawn”, and on bedside table: check
Alarm set: check
Results of Third Photographic Competition
Thank you to all who entered the competition for their wondrous and very varied interpretations of the theme. Whilst I very much enjoyed seeing all your photographs, including those which you chose not to put forward for consideration, it made choosing the winner extremely difficult.
Continue reading “Results of Third Photographic Competition”
Do we like Polls?
Not long to go: Photo competition
Any more photographs? Details and some extremely good entries can be found here.
Just to be trendy, and to see how easy/difficult it is; I am including a poll, so you may, if you wish, vote for your favourite.
Judge’s decision, however, is final !
Third Photography Competition
Contrasts:
textures, subject matter, shadows, colours, make of it what you will!
Anything suitable from your archive would be acceptable, if you don’t have time to dash out and compose a new one!
Please add them to this thread. If you don’t know how to do this, instructions are available here
Please remember to reduce the size of your images before you upload them to the Media Library; I can probably correct any HTML errors but I can’t reduce the size of your images!
Entries to be posted before 8pm GMT on Ist of February 2011.
PS:
Just a reminder, which I must admit I forgot to include, only one entry per person.
You are more than welcome to post more here; it’s great to see all your photographs, but would you just let me know which one you would like to include in the competition.
Thanks.
The Political Wife: January Short Story
Two months before their fortieth wedding anniversary he left. Jill was in shock and found she couldn’t focus on practical details. Her eldest son cancelled all the party arrangements and arranged an appointment with the solicitor.
She refused to attend. The reality of the situation was something she chose to ignore however much her children urged her to protect her own interests. She ignored phone calls from her husband, and flatly declined to discuss the situation with her friends or family. She snubbed the press, and likewise, increasingly frantic communications from the PM’s Office.
It was a frustrating time for all of them but every time they visited their mother, she was pottering around as usual in the garden or walking the dogs. She was not in the slightest bit curious to know where he was or what he was doing. After years of ignoring his various infidelities and petty cruelties she simply carried on as normal. Of course, she was on some level aware that her life would change in the future, but she wanted to face that in her own time, and at her own pace.
Boadicea's Chariot 
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