Boadicea's Chariot

The average age of a Charioteer is most likely in the Chris Woakes bowling speed range. Well played, those said charioteers for being long lived. Your blushing, “youngish”, modest, unassuming Arts Editor hits the big Hawaii Five-O this autumn.

I don’t expect any round of applause for making fifty. I won’t raise my bat,  5-0 is not the middle of life any more. Fifty is the new twenty. However, as I near the new twenty a crisis has happenstanced.

There is a new woman in my life. She understands me more than my wife. This woman…

She is Black.

She is slim

She is pretty.

She has shark-toothed  fret markings.

Here she is. Continue reading “Crisis, What Crisis?”

Used to be the Democratic party in America was mostly about protecting and representing the interests of the working classes. In 1993, to that end, Nevada senator Harry Reid spoke out against illegal immigration and birthright citizenship. Bill Clinton, in a SOTU address echoed his sentiments.

Twenty plus years later the Democratic party’s position has ‘evolved.’

Is it any wonder that Trump’s most fervent support is coming from the … working classes? – Which, by the way, Democratic – and Republican – elites are now mocking.

 

Those days in Dorset merged together in a glorious melange of memories, sites, sounds and experiences. Where to start? Where to stop? Dorset ice cream in a park, fish and chips on the river walk. Did I mention that I visited the Keep military museum? Excellent experience – so much history that isn’t always thought about in a place you’d hardly expect it to be. Did I discuss going to Weymouth? No, I doubt that. Continue reading “Blur”

The ghastly Romanian left a few days before I went on holiday. Landlady and I had a few chats about the changed situation in the days after. The atmosphere in our little flat improved beyond measure. It is cleaner and quieter. Our moods have been elevated to heights higher than had seemed possible for months. On my final day my students all rose from their desks and shook hands after I gave my last lesson. The day slipped quickly away. A last minute cancellation – no worries, I still get paid; a final work-out before a quick chat with landlady’s son to let him know that I was taking my leave. Never counting on airline service I popped in to my favourite Bolivian coffee shop for a light supper before going to airport. Continue reading “Not an Occupation, Merely on Holiday.”