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Would I lie to you?

As reported by some colleagues at the Open University, “The Welsh Labour government (reluctantly but with cross-party support) has committed to legislating to bar elected politicians from the Senedd if they refuse to apologise after having been found to have lied, even if the lie was committed outside the chamber.” Should this be the case in Westminster? On the one hand, off with the Labour politicians’ collective heads, I say. The gallows is too good for them. Lammy claimed the Chagos islanders had been consulted on his surrender to a Chinese ally – Lie. Reeves said the Tories had left her with a £22bn black hole – Lie. Starmer said he was a man of integrity – Oh, don’t make me laugh. And on and on and on, non-stop throughout Starmergeddon’s first 100+ days (Jeez – it feels like a lifetime). Another reason for such legislation is to mirror what the corporate world is subject to. For example, executives can’t lie about the financial state of the business. Further, employees who lie can
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A lady who lunches (and wines and dines and breakfasts)

Recently I was back at Cambridge for another excuse to eat, drink and be merry. Despite not being an over-achiever academically (although I am an over-achiever in the understatement department), I’ve always felt at home at College, rubbing shoulders and kissy-kissing with the higher achievers and more monied. This particular occasion tested my comfort zone in other ways but it remained unbreached, dear friends (with apologies to William and Harry – that’s Shakespeare and The Fifth).
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The gift that keeps on giving

For a right-so-far adherent like me, I’m always on the lookout for evidence to back up my criticism of lefties. But, honestly. This Labour Government is handing me so much ammo on a platter, they’re taking the fun and challenge out of the game. Lies. Nepotism. Greed. Hypocrisy. Tone-deafness. Incompetence. Nastiness. Betrayal. Treason. In Spades! This is why I haven’t blogged for weeks – they’re giving me so much material, I don’t know where to start.
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England ’til I die.

Hubby and I were in God’s own County for a few days, aka Yorkshire. As has become our norm, he mainly does his thing (cycling) and I do mine (hiking, shopping, PhuDding and blogging). Day one, he went off over the moors, while I legged it up a gill (a narrow valley to you southerners), in and out of thickly wooded areas, because the sun was hot hot hot, and trees are known to provide a bit of shade. We PhuDders know that sort of thing.
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Espresso martinis

It’s Sunday morning. I’m halfway down my second gut-scraping Americano, and I’ve caught up on my current affairs reading. Time to blog, but what about? I’m kinda current-affaired out. So, how about our trip to Henley Royal Regatta this week. A happy, uplifting, dreadfully inconsequential tale, but it makes me smile as I write. Actually this year we went twice. Wednesday we met with Hubby’s family and caught up with tales of aunts and uncles, cousins and co. The racing was a bit ho hum. Too many walkovers. But despite this, plus the traffic and the rain and the cold and the extortionate prices, a stonking good time was had by all. 
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Bring up the bodies

Why should people not vote Reform UK? To limit the size of Labour’s majority. That’s it. That’s the reason.
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When the facts change, I change my mind

Some attribute this quote to Sir Winston Churchill, some to John Maynard Keynes. I think Nigel Farage could have said it. This weekend Farage is under fire for saying what he’s been saying since the 1990’s. What he’s been saying and what he said this weekend he is able to justify, and the facts haven’t changed. The facts are that Putin is a warmonger, and the EU/NATO has so far failed at the complex, goalpost-moving feast that is this particular geopolitical game. Farage is claiming that the EU/NATO’s ambitions eastwards and perceived flirtation with Ukraine “provoked” Putin into invading Ukraine. He didn’t say he liked Putin. In fact he said explicitly that he didn’t like him. He said he admired him as a political operative, which does not mean he thinks he’s honourable. Farage was also very clear that Putin is to blame for the invasion of Ukraine. Neither did he criticise nation states for exercising their sovereign right to – er – sacrifice their sovereignty in order to join the EU.
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First-world problems

For those who think the sky’s about to fall in should they a) break a nail, b) be mis-gendered, c) lose an egg-and-spoon race (or just take part in an egg-and-spoon race if you’re vegan), then look away now. You’re only gonna get mad.
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What's your beef?

Beef featured prominently in my life last week, literally and idiomatically. On Tuesday night, after our er second glass of wine, me and my mate H started on the state of British farming through no fault of the farmers. At one point, I wailed, “Why oh why do we have to trace every beef burger back to one animal? Or even one farm? As long as we know it’s British beef, we know it’s reared to a sufficiently high standard. Just get the beef to the butchers and let them do what they want with it. It would cut costs all along, literally, the food chain.”
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Can't tell the difference

Got an email from a blog fan this week: “I do think that there is a blog to be done about the Starmer. Given that he seems to imply that he changed the Labour party singlehandedly, how can the businesses [who signed that letter of support] be sure he won’t get bumped out by the left? They need to beware of what they wish for. My cousin once told me that success as a barrister was down to 10% knowledge of the law and 90% acting!”
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"Sly and ill-disposed polemicists"

Gee, I wonder who I might be referring to (to whom I might be referring). One could say that my PhuDding is getting in the way of my blogging. This is bad news for those seeking commonsensical, factual, logical, nonsense-busting insights, but good news if you prefer a truth-denying, IQ-quashing, Guardian-fuelled, free-speech-subjugating echo chamber.
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Another Ruddy Requiem

I remember my excitement several years ago when it was announced that Stewkley Singers would be performing Mozart’s Requiem for our spring concert. Not sure which year it was – it was pre-Covid so timing’s all a bit of a blur really. A Requiem is traditionally a ‘Mass for the Dead’ from the Medieval Church, with the usual prayers and exhortations (e.g., Kyrie Eleison; In Paradisum) to give comfort to departed souls. Come the actual concert, it was a wonderful, novel experience: the Sanctus uplifting and the Lacrimosa incredibly moving.
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Long live colonialism!

I didn’t say that. Others are saying it: those quick to condemn and slow to join the dots. Usual suspects. Colonialism has had its day. No one in their right mind, which rules out the EU, wants to colonise nations to plunder their resources, goodwill and foist their values on an indigenous peoples who want to make up their own minds and manage their own affairs thank you very much. Von der Liar take note.
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The devil wears Prada

Apt title – a story by a woman about women for women chosen as the title of a blog by a woman about women (born as, that is; no other kind exists).  I’ve been pretty brutal in previous blogs about some of my fellow women: a venerable rouge’s gallery of wannabees, neverbees, shouldnabees and wokerbees. Think (because they tend not to) Vennels, Markle, Rayner, Abbott, Rose, Maitlis, Van der Liar, Ardern, Dick, Sturgeon, Hale, Miller, May, Gay, plus one or two you’ve never heard of, and I wish I hadn’t either.
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Forgiveness seems to be the hardest thing

Hello, blog fans. Apologies for the radio silence, but I’m bi-i-sy doin’ a-lo-ot, workin’ the whole day-and-night through, tryin’ to find lots of things not to put off doing. To no avail. 
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Radio Ga Ga

With apologies to Freddie Mercury et al. When I’m not Zooming, Teamsing, Skyping or Sleeping, I like background music. I need background music. It’s at once company and comfort. Mostly it’s classical, but Hubby likes nostalgic pop and Greatest Hits Radio, until they sink so low as to air Fearful Sharkface. Then it’s a race to the off-button or, more apt for FS, the F off button.
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Houchen, we have a problem

But the problem is not Teesside Mayor, Lord (Ben) Houchen of High Leven; au contraire, he’s part of the solution. The problem is that it’s impossible to effectively deliver on a demonically complicated, conflicted, conflated, mega-sized mega-faceted project by tenaciously following the rule book and ticking all the boxes. A compromise has to be made between outcomes and process – if you want more favourable outcomes then you have to cut corners on process.
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Catty

Feeling lazy / tired / dispirited / blah, ready to curl up with the cat in front of the woodburning stove (Oh, the carbon emissions!), I can’t be bothered to compose my own masterpiece so instead will cobble together others’ nuggets. Not elegant, but functional.
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A circuitous route

After supper with Sis of burger, chips and red wine at a Gordon Ramsay place in London, I settled down in my armchair to blog. I was too tired to PhuD or prep for next week’s meetings, and disinclined to change a light bulb, vacuum the rug or straighten a wonky picture on the wall. In any event, it suited being wonky. It’s a vividly colourised and abstractly contrasted reflection of part of a boat on the water. Cleverly conceived and beautifully executed, it would never win the Turner Prize, no matter how wonkily presented.
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ac alys us of yfele soşlice

Sometimes you have to block things out and soldier on as if nothing bad has happened.
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