East

Stepping backwards in time around 35 years, to another period of desperate uncertainty, the time of strikes and industrial discord, I'm reminded of a computer game I played a lot. 'The Hobbit'.

Under normal circumstances I wouldn't be looking back to such events but these aren't normal times, not by a long way.

Now, the point about adventures is not everyone is cut out for adventures. Just like the Hobbits, some of us British thought it'd be a great idea to venture out into the world beyond the safety of The Shire. It sounds a noble thing to do, to assemble a band of like-minded travellers, none particularly well-suited to the unknown but all SURE it will go well.

Deep down, they know the reality is likely to disappoint, to scare, but their friends carry them along. Friends won't let friends down, there's nothing more certain than that.

East. East was a direction one had to take to progress, but a direction leading one deeper into darker situations. Trolls, Goblins and Wargs – wolf-like creatures, a giant spider, a dragon, and even scarier creatures, yeah, the stuff of legend.

Rest easy though, there's a happy ending – there were enough allies available during the journey to make a difference to the eventual outcome. Read the book, read it to your children. Read it before the books are burned.* We British went east, east into Europe, our tale doesn't look likely to end well…

Lemmings. I've seen more than enough references to lemmings in cartoons and popular media, but the cartoonists got it wrong. Understandable, lemmings are more in tune with the British psyche, being at least identifiably European. They're not but that's a minor detail.

Actually, lemmings running off a cliff was a clever stunt by Disney, a stunt to perpetuate a legend rather than to put one to rest. Disney chucked hundreds of lemmings over a cliff. And filmed it. Yay, Disney.

Now, we aren't lemmings, lemmings aren't us. We're buffalo.

"Deep blood kettle": a loose translation of the Blackfoot tribe's word for a buffalo jump cliff. Not so much a cliff for buffalo to jump off but one off which a herd was forced to fall, either killing the animals outright or incapacitating them until they could be killed by the native Americans. The principle was simple: panic a few at the back, drive them in the right direction, those at the front won't stand a chance, pushed along by the sheer weight of numbers behind.

Sustainability though was, I believe, the key here. It'd be utterly pointless for the tribe to kill off an entire herd. What happens next year? And the next? Starvation or the necessity to become nomadic? A stark choice.

"United Europe has been a curse." "We've become complacent, reliant upon other people to make decisions for us." "Those decisions were never in our best interests, especially the laws to enhance personal wellbeing and safety." "Europe will decline and drag all with it." "Those nasty European bureaucrats!" Yeah…

Common complaints by people who who haven't studied Europe as deeply as I have. For the last 6 weeks. Off-and-on. Makes me an expert. Yeah. Ok, so I've spent a little more than that, but…

Knowing that no-one likes experts or facts anymore fills me with dread. I've noticed my attention span diminished over the years as my recreational use of the Internet increased; more precisely my ability to place events in a time-related context. Expecting others to look back to a time before they became self-aware is very selfish of me.

Deep down I know that it's pointless to attempt to educate people that the worst is NOT over; that though the pound has indeed rebounded against the Dollar (and the Euro), and though the FTSE 100 has indeed stabilised, and though…

Oh, what's the use? Farage and Boris and Gove jointly pulled the sword out of the stone already.

Now what? Now the sword is out, what can we do with it? Is it shiny and radiant and pure and does it sing of greatness and…

King-making is out. Our society doesn't work like that any more.

Eye-for-eye justice systems, etc. all gone, consigned to a time in history when things were just simpler, more predictable.

Yes, the Black Death focused the nation's collective mind, likely brought along social and economic change in a way nothing previously had. And the industrial revolution, forever changing society from self-sufficiency to a reliance on others… but conflict remained.

Battles with other belligerent, territorial, nations – predictable, understandable. Let's see those fingers lads!

Ahhh… maybe I should let things take their natural course and stop worrying. I am but one man. Writing to my MP brought zero hope.

Let's see what we have. Take stock.

Long ago in a land far-away lived a middle-aged man. He gambled with his country's future. He lost. Not the end of the tale, nor much of an auspicious beginning.

spellcheckaracist: Is it worth it?


*Yes, melodrama!

Boris

'Everyone knew Boris': a quotation (paraphrased here) from someone who knew Boris at university. Not everyone knew David Cameron, 2 years behind Boris. Boris, he's unique that one.

Xmas hasn't come early for Boris though. I genuinely feel sorry for him. Less-than a week after the vote, Michael Gove's abandonment of both any semblance of friendship with Boris and his own statement that he himself wasn't Prime Ministerial material are telling of the measure of the man. The measure of Mr Gove, that is. Boris Johnson is in no way Prime Ministerial material either, and I'm struggling to come up with a government department suitable to be run by a man with his unique talents.

Er… I can't think of anything but an arts or media-related department. Sport. None of those Departments are 'nothing' jobs, but… Not Chancellor, not Justice, not Foreign or Home Offices, not…

Commentators, political, financial, history , must be rubbing their hands with glee; unprecedented events, a dream team of limitless political talent on both sides of the House Of Commons, what could be better‽

Right here, right now, political journalists have to be where everyone is looking. We need answers, answers the politicians aren't providing. Unless they're Scottish, in which case they've suffered the angst already, are actually prepared for this.

Almost everyone who voted should be asked to formulate a plan; either to lead the country out of this mess in the most efficient manner possible, or to provide the best possible framework to survive our post-EU era. I have mine. Its simple, but relies on the British not gaining a very British pyrrhic victory, not letting a very British hubris drive our future, and not being uniquely and stubbornly British in outlook. English then, ok.

Bemusingly, my MP failed to provide a rational response to the Labour Party's fragmentation, by first standing alongside her leader and then, when the tide against him started to lap at his toes, resigning in the name of, er… unity and doing her job: which is apparently holding the Conservative Party to account.' So where does that leave us? Where does that leave me?

Looking at currency movements, comparing the GBP to the US Dollar (ignoring the Euro for now) and against gold. Standing back from Nigel Farage (never one of us) a man rubbing Europe's nose in his poo; likely believing he single-handedly started the terminal decline of an imperfect organisation responsible for the welfare of 500 million people. I'm learning a bit about the psychology of decision making, herd mentality, and politics. And I'm examining history. I'm not examining my conscience.

Everyone; a rhetorical question: To what extent would you allow untruths to propagate unchecked, who would you abandon along the way, how far would YOU go to change our world?


Yes, more words, blah.

Accepted challenge

Coming from a non-political society as I do I'm often confused by people's response to politicians.

Ordinary people just don't seem particularly well-attuned to, well, figuring out that they're being outright lied to.

Challenging what they're told is wrong, especially of their friends believe too!

Killing popular misconceptions of a politician's role is easy.

Well, here goes!

Once upon a time I admired Ann Widdecombe from afar. Her forthrightness when asked silly questions was endearing, captivating. Fwoarrrrr! And then I discovered she didn't vote in any manner aligned to her constituents' wishes. She voted to align with what she thought were their best interests.

Mmmm…

Brexit focused my mind on the bleeding obvious. When I discovered Ms Widdecombe's behaviour I was initially aghast, self-righteously indignant that the concept of democracy had been cruelly stomped over.

Last week I discovered her basic philosophy is correct.

Every step along this post-Brexit road is challenging my belief systems. I still think what happened is wrong. Now shouldn't be the time for me to be doing this. But it is.


As with my last, this post isn't necessarily about the words.

Challenge accepted

Surreal situation, isn't it. Led into something that's obviously not good for us by people still refusing to admit they should perhaps have taken more time to look at facts rather than wishlists.

Psychologically, it's a well-documented phenomenon; point a person at two choices: one utterly unpalatable, one ludicrously unachievable but appealing to base instincts – and presented as scary thing vs the truth – the choice is easily made.

Under normal circumstances, an election for a position, change after a fixed term is possible.

Not now, not now this once-in-a-lifetime, unstoppable, irreversible machine has gained the momentum of populism.

Kicking out, taking sides is inevitable. At politicians especially so for allowing this to happen.

Monday morning last, after a pleasant weekend including a visit to the cinema, I simply didn't want to get out of bed. Turmoil, angst, fear of the unknown…

Ok, some of it is irrational, but I have to admit I'm not as full of hope as those who voted FOR Brexit. Indeed I remain angry, and scared.

Now, I'm an engineer, a man used to analysing situations, for taking my time and not making leaps of faith without an examination of at least a few alternative scenarios.

Killing time while waiting for the British summer lumpy sunshine to abate gave me the opportunity to work things out for myself.

Everyone who voted last week should have been made to do the same. Simply asking their name and/or address on polling day now just doesn't seem ENOUGH. We haven't witnessed democracy, not by a long, long way.

Yes, I'm advocating for a change in voter eligibility/registration/rights. Even the US system looks, with its buffer between the voter and the ultimate outcome, better right now.


Earlier today I was challenged to write something special. I think I have.

(Hint: it's not always about the words.)

Chainsaws

Naah, that won't work, juggling chainsaws isn't an an appropriate analogy to use here. Perhaps sword-swallowing is a more British thing?

The British/UK electorate were presented with a choice recently: to swallow a sword or to not swallow a sword. The responsible thing would have been for both sides to put forward appropriate arguments; the For and the Against camps.

The Against camp could have stated that, without adequate training, unsupervised sword swallowing is dangerous; that the sword has to have a dulled edge and rounded 'point', the sword must be introduced at the appropriate angle, the abdomen aligned appropriately, and that it'd be best to think about the implications were it to go a bit wrong – to have a backup plan involving the Emergency Services. Have a few, shallow, practice swallows before going all the way. It'd take the fun out of it, the unpredictability, the element of connection with our past, but it's safe.

The For camp could have said ah, fuck it, have a few pints beforehand, a couple of whiskies, and selfie-film it whilst your mates encourage you. Look back at our great history; we've a noble tradition of sword swallowing, embrace it! And if it goes wrong, well, those Against folks can sort it out.

And that's the basics of what happened before our European Referendum.

The right to throw a sword down your throat doesn't mean to say you don't deserve protection from the consequences of your actions. Prevention is always better than the cure.

Stark, isn't it.

Regrexit

Yesterday evening I watched a video, a young woman interviewed on national television, already regretting that she and her sisters and parents had voted to leave Europe, and wishing for another try at voting to put it right.

To say that, the day after the historic vote, smacks of an extreme level of naivete, a complete ignorance of both the issues and the consequences of one's own actions…

But hey, she got on the telly!

I've not much more to say on the European Referendum – not until we get some indication of likely trends, political decisions. Not until the dust settles. What there is for now, it's here.

It goes on for a bit.

Thursday was not the day for registering a protest vote, not the day for 'sending a message to Europe', not the day for 'sending a message to the British Parliament', no. Neither was Thursday the day to vote as one's friends, family and/or colleagues voted – to vote that way because your peers were.

Thursday perhaps wasn't the best day for a first-ever vote, and not the best day for that protest vote after a lifetime of assuming that votes don't matter, assuming that votes are meaningless…

At the last local election I decided to not vote. Not 'couldn't be bothered to', not a decision based on apathy but a decision based on an inability of the candidates and their parties to engage with me when it mattered.

I remain, despite my decades of votes, in general terms politically naive. I also believe that my vote could one day be the decider in a closely-fought election; a single vote to break a stalemate of indecision.

I believe that my 2 NON-Liberal/Liberal Democrat votes changed politics subtly – first the Green vote when 'everybody' voted Green that time, and then the UKIP vote when everybody voted UKIP that time.

Both votes felt good. GOOD. Yeah.

The time for a protest vote had passed before Thursday, it's just those voting for the first time ever, those contributing o the record turnout, didn't know it.

Now, I've seen individuals and political parties asking us to not demonise those who voted to leave Europe, to instead embrace them and work together to shape this nation towards a positive future.

Nope. I have the right to look disdainful at them, the right to shake my head and tut disapprovingly.

On Facebook and Twitter yesterday, and for the first time ever I used the term 'fucktards'. I honestly cannot see past the sadness and yes anger, that I felt on seeing the result. The politicians handed the future of our nation over to the people and assumed we'd know what to do. I say 'we' yeah, about that…

Nope. Not me. My half a brain's just big-enough to realise an attempt to re-assert our unique identity in the face of Euro-creep is ill-timed.

The British brand is very, very well-established worldwide. Though the English, Scottish, Welsh and Irish (sorry Northern Ireland) identify must often be explained to foreigners, we're not anonymous even within Europe.

Perceptions though; the Blitz, British Bulldog, stiff-upper lip, two-fingers-up-at-the-world, don't panic image remains strong at home.

Resilience under duress. The British Empire. Yeah.

How can we use the gift handed to us by the political machine to our advantage? What choices do we have now?

'We're all in this together.'

'We need our Big Society to pull us through.'

'We've taken back control!'

Miles, pounds and ounces, pints, feet and inches, curved bananas, our own armed forces, immigration, £350 million, yeah!

Yeah.

'Fucktards' though? Where do they come in?

Well, aside from the simple fact they've always been here, yesterday, and against the backdrop of my previous blog posts, I posted this on Facebook:

'Hmmm…

Leave voters*: "We got our country back!'

Rest of the world, washing hands as 10% is wiped off the value of the Pound in overnight currency trading: 'Yeah.'

*Can I SAY 'Fucktards' here?"

And, a little later, this:

"One final thought, please treat as rhetorical:

Who are 'we' going to blame THIS one on?"

Thursday was a day to vote armed (if you like) with knowledge gained after months of campaigning, at worst a basic understanding of the likely and immediate outcomes of a vote to leave, a day to think of the future.

Thursday was a day to vote knowing that foreigners would 'respect the wishes of the British', knowing that the financial markets would react predictably (badly for us and the rest of the world!), and knowing that the fallout from the vote would…

One can't argue against Democracy: at its best giving everyone an equal voice in the decision-shaping process, and at its worst giving everyone an equal voice in the decision-shaping process. We live in good times – when an ordinary person has as much influence as a wealthy, influential, fingers-in-all-the-pies, er… person.

But we are not all equal. Not everyone cared enough to research the issues and voted based in probabilities, based on a broad grasp of historical trends, based on an objective view of the realities of the modern business world.

The good news, such as it is, is this: the vote was close, and crucially is not binding on Parliament.

Close-enough that it's not too big a stretch to see that regrets might play a factor in future voter behaviour.

Our MPs and, I'm guessing here, the Lords, don't HAVE to vote to leave, don't HAVE to follow the will of 52% of the people.

The Prime Minister has already resigned, the Labour Party leader is facing a vote of no confidence ALREADY.

Uncertainty.

I'm guessing that a percentage Remain vote similar to Gibraltar's 96% to Remain would have made the decision easy for the majority of our political representatives. The overall 52%/48% split though makes things, er… difficult. Not impossible.

Would YOU want to be the politician who voted to remain despite your constituents' clear message? Would YOU deny their wishes even though your (hopefully!) deeper understanding of the issues gives you an insight the voters denied themselves?

It's all we have to put this right, all there is standing between us and years of austerity, misery and regret.


Assume I'm wrong.

Assume the politicians vote with their constituents. Out!

Then what? What must we do to ensure our economy establishes a firm footing? What is there, what are we not doing already, that will establish us as an economic entity trading from outside Europe?

I was probably wrong in thinking we must invent new industries post-Brexit. I was probably wrong on thinking that we need to dramatically shift the way we think about trade to make us more attractive to the rest of the world.

New industries: if it were that easy we'd have done it by now. There's nothing from Europe stopping us.

Trading differently: I don't know. Tariffs imposed by the rest of the world's trading blocs are likely to be the decider here; we must trade at a rate advantageous to both sides. 'Great' British pride must not stand in the way of hacking out a deal.

I don't know how long negotiations will take. Our best bet is simply to roll over and accept the terms allowed to Norway, Switzerland and soon Canada.

So why money, why am I not looking at immigration? I've heard, so many times, that 'we're full!'

No we're not, not by a long way. When was the last time you were unable to leave your home because the street was packed full of people? When did you fail to get your shopping due to mile-long, er… kilometre-long checkout queues?

Not full, see. Poorly-distributed.

Theres no doubt that areas across the nation see an influx of immigrants and naturally resent the erosion of their way of life.

We're struggling to maintain access to essential services for everyone, but that's not the fault of immigrants. Yeah, sure if there weren't any we'd have full employment, no need for a minimum wage and zero-hours contracts, the NHS would be fully-staffed and open 7 days a week, we wouldn't be shutting hospital accident and emergency units and merging maternity units, no.

It's about the distribution of money. The north fares badly. HS2 won't benefit us for decades, if ever, if it's ever built. The Northern Powerhouse is a Big Society bedfellow – a thing that removes government from decision-making and pushed it onto local government and businesses.

Inequality.

But still, what money do we have? Can we spend the £350,000,000 per week allocated to Europe?

Allocated to, not sent.

Last year the government took in £533,373,000,000 in tax.

Divide that by the Europe money multiplied by 52 weeks per year, divide 1 by it, and multiply the result by 100. What do you get?

3.41 – the percentage of our tax receipts allocated to Europe.

Wow. Allocated to not sent, but still A Big Number.

What do we get back, what's the net total we give to Europe?

Already the Welsh and Cornish are asking that the government matches the grants received from Europe – grants used to preserve their food, language and customs for future generations. The farmers and fishermen will follow, and the engineers, artists, broadcasters, tourism organisations…

The £350,000,000 allocated to build one hospital per week looks in danger of being eroded a bit already! Oh dear. Maybe we should settle for building 50,having 2 weeks off for Christmas, and using the leftover money to staff the hospitals instead!

It won't work but it's a start.

£350,000,000 multiplied by 52 is itself a quite large number.

£18,200,000,000. Wow.

Cornwall most recently took 0.33% of that.

So, let's ignore what we get back from Europe and concentrate on what we SEND there.

Well, from fullfact.org:

"In 2015 the UK government paid£13 billion to the EU budget, and EU spending on the UK was £4.5 billion. So the UK’s ‘net contribution’ was estimated at about £8.5 billion."

But wait, £350M per week is £18.2B – what's happening there? An instant rebate, albeit negotiated, that's what, but still considerably less than the £350M figure per week quoted ad nauseam by the Brecon camp.

A net contribution of £8.2B. What's that per week?

£157.7M per week. Wow. Maybe we should just cut back our hospital building programme, to perhaps 21 per year? Not looking as good now, is it? That's still preserving a Christmas break; important to note, that.

There are all kinds of savings to be made though:

  • Members of the European Parliament,
  • Bureaucrats employed on European stuff,
  • Er… that's it, right?

As time passes my certainty diminishes that I'll not see anarchy in my lifetime. My wish erodes to see a bright future for my girls. The belief that as a major player in a major co-operative movement we can shape history and nations for the better is eliminated in favour of observations of narrow-mindedness.

Songs/song titles of our times:

  • Anarchy in the UK: The Sex Pistols.

  • Road To Nowhere: Talking Heads.

  • Love Will Tear Us Apart: Joy Divison – and some lyrics for you:

"When routine bites hard,
And ambitions are low,
And resentment rides high,
But emotions won't grow,
And we're changing our ways,
Taking different roads.

Then love, love will tear us apart again.
Love, love will tear us apart again."

I hope mine is an overreaction.

Yes, I AM still scared.

Voter

To all those registered to vote in the UK's Europe Referendum: Go and vote; your country needs you.

Take your dog, young children along. They can't vote but it'll help.


My handy guide to where to make your mark – either:

LEAVE [ ]X (thinking outside the box; it's the future)

or:

REMAIN X

(Borrowed from a Facebook post.)

Space

Space. Mankind still hasn't conquered it. That's fine. There's still an element of danger inherent in the process, but it's a risk acceptable to everyone who participates in each and every mission.

Mankind has been visiting space for decades now, the protocols, the terminology, all of it well-understood: the countdown, lift-off, orbits, de-orbit burn, re-entry, touchdown – all should be commonplace in the viewer and broadcaster vocabulary.

The human aspect of space is also pretty obvious; people go up, experience zero-gravity, and come back to earth with decreased muscle mass. And then there's hope; that, one day, the schoolboy and schoolgirl watching wide-eyed could, perhaps, maybe, go up there too.

So why is space and man's achievements there viewed so negatively or at least by adopting a blasé approach?

Commonplace. Meh. Pretty pictures of our planet.

BBC One switched from a news broadcast, a good proportion of which concentrated on Tim's mission, to a cooking programme.

What‽

Not 15 minutes before the Soyuz capsule carrying Tim Peake was due to land, the BBC turns it off. An historic event worthy of a very real national pride, and the BBC can't be arsed.

Yeah, sure I could have watched elsewhere, even to Auntie Beeb's News channel. I'd naively expected the news programme to carry on for a bit and reschedule later stuff accordingly. So I switched channels.

The BBC does not get Baz's seal of approval.

Ah well.

It got me thinking.

Where, these days, is the sense of wonder, of hope, of looking forward rather than back, of aspiration, of…

Where are we going?

Ian

I work for a company with a larger-than-average number of gentlemen named Ian* concentrated into a small area. It's small-enough that three of the four could reach out and touch the others if they so desired…

Er…

Pretty-much every working day at 10am and 3pm (excluding Fridays) I've been telling Steve* that it's time for his drink: "Steve, brew time!"

Since 2002 that is, with breaks for good (and bad) behaviour. Steve gets a bit grumpy if brew time is delayed.

I'm kept on my toes by the rest of the office; if I forget the alert I'm reminded (or bypassed entirely!) It's a good thing, a dry engineer isn't a happy engineer!

And then we got a new guy and another new guy: 2 of our 4 Ians.*

They wanted in. Obviously, we engineers take brew times seriously. I modified the alert, which caught on in high circles, often invoked with third-party modifications; performance tuning!

A popular variant: "Brew Time Nuclear Ian, brew time no-nukes Ian!"*

Awesome.

We got a new starter 2 weeks ago, Dave.* Now Dave has been away this week – the 6-day SolidWorks course. A course to be completed in 5 days. Illogical maybe but hey, 'tis one of the most intense things I've ever done…

Anyway, I practised a tiny update to the brew time alert today, a tweak designed to establish a new office order:

"Brew time Steve, brew time Dave (a pause, and dismissive wave) brew time the Ians."

I think it'll work well. Quite what Dave will think of it I can't really guess at this stage. Based on what I've seen so far though, I think she'll fit in nicely.


*The names have been changed to protect the identities of those involved. Yes. As have their engineering specialities. We have other Ians throughout the building too; not quite an embarrassment of Ians though.

Clinton

Do you, like I, recall a time a decade or two ago; a time when Mr Clinton was accused of being a bit of a thicky, driven to succeed by the efforts of his much cleverer wife – Mrs Clinton – who most commentators of the day positioned as the brains of the outfit?

Isn't it strange how men and women are now disowning her, with the simple accusation that she would NEVER have reached 'here' by herself.

How odd.

I shouldn't dabble in political commentary, I can't seem to understand the basics.