Zebra and the wheelchair

What’s a blog for except to self-promote and occasionally comment on the state of things. Here goes with a mix of both. Previously (see below) I expressed the hope that dire promises for 2017 wouldn’t come to pass. How forlorn is that? Trump, a man with less culture than a pot of factory-made yogurt, has been let out of the box. Poor America, poor us. Meanwhile, the UK is busting up like a fat lady in a tight dress. And who is running the show to leave our partners in Europe? Why, it’s a sad and sorry remnant of Thatcher’s government. Tired old men and a few women, one of them acting as prime minister. Things seem to be slipping further out of our control, we’re left with marching and beating up on social media. If I could bring something back to the life politic it would be kindness.

Almost forgot the self-promotion. Perhaps I’ll leave that for another time.

A slow crossing

Going, going, gone

coffee & news

Two thousand and sixteen has almost gone and now we power on to 2017. I hope visions of doom and gloom fail to materialise but every time I hear about a tweet from Trump the Terrible, I feel sick. Have you noticed how the word – nuance – has become popular in political discourse? That’s because there is such a failure to incorporate it. Sledgehammer is more like it.

As for Brexit I have not felt oppressed by Europe. Perhaps I have been too used to my chains of Greek olives, Spanish tapas, les vacances in France, Berlin’s graffiti, Finland’s timber, Italian pasta, and people who speak English with cute accents. HNY!