Where are the Leave Campaign? Left Already?

Have they left? Who? The Leave Campaign of course. There was a time, up until last Wednesday in fact, when you couldn't switch on the television without having to gaze at Michael Gove,  Boris Johnson or Priti Patel. But now, they seem to have gone to ground. So where are they? Are they all holed up somewhere, panicking, hyperventilating and saying things like. 'OMG! What have we done? Half the country hates us and thinks we are small-minded idiots. Better get on with it. Hang on though, what did we say we'd do?'

A friend of mine, very politically aware and once a Labour MP before he was kicked out by a Lib Dem over the Iraq war, has actually said that we may never actually leave the EU. He told me that it would take at least 2.25 years for us to cut all ties and that within that time so much may have changed in the EU that another referendum will be activated. Pipe Dream? Maybe, but at the moment I am willing to believe anything that gets us back to where we were on Wednesday.

I honestly thought that Remain would win and even Nigel Farage, on referendum night said that he thought that Remain 'had edged it.' I confess to being surprised, shocked even at thye result and yet I do not believe that the EU is perfect - far from it, especially with the 12 unelected decision makers at the helm and the money that seems to leak away from what some call the 'last gravy train'.

Even the most passionate Remain supporters will accept that the EU is not flawless, but by being a part of it we could, maybe, have influenced decisions.

What the politicians must now turn their attention to are those people who used the opportunity to spit at the government, the Labour Party and the whole of the Westminster elite. They have been fobbed off for too long while their  towns and cities have changed fundamentally. Yes, of course, immigration is a good thing, for all the reasons that have been repeatedly repeated. For some of the indigenous people though, immigration has been too numerous and too swift. It needs managing and a sense of fairness needs to be seen to be applied to all. Places in the North West; Bury, Bolton, Preston. Blackburn - the indigenous population there do not feel that 'immigration is a wonderful thing' - they just feel pushed out and forgotten.

So when you feel pushed around, bullied even, the chance to bite back is irresistible. The Leave vote won out, not because people wanted to leave the EU, but because they wanted to punish those who they felt, have punished them.

As a Labour Party member, I have to confess to being sick of the internal divisions, the self-indulgence of infighting, the vanity of MPs who think that they have a right to form little cliques and to sneer at he leadership. ALL the Labour Party should be should be thinking of those people who rely on them for fairness and justice: the poor, the dispossessed, the asylum seekers, the old, those who want to find a better life, the unemployed, those recently out of prison and those who need a step up. We can't look to the Tories for sympathy. Despite their phrase of 'compassionate conservatism' no one is fooled.

So reach out Labour, as the Four Tops instructed and look after YOUR people.

What is a 'good mother'?

We hear it all the time. 'Oh yes, she is a really good mother'. Listeners nod sagely in agreement, but what I would like to clarify is this - what do we really mean by a good mother?

So, is a good mother a woman who puts her children before everything else? Or is she a woman who has a job, employs a childminder, and heads off to the workplace daily, firm in her view that she will be a better mother if she has a job she enjoys and which giver her a sense of her worth?

Some women have a strong desire to be with their children all the time, often fearing that outside influences will corrupt them in some way. Daily there is baking, painting, craftwork, drawing and on and on. On reaching school age, what does this mother do? Well, she home schools them, of course. I don't like to mention social class or be classist in any way, but sometimes, it is the only way. Now I've excused myself for mentioning social class, it is the case that it is usually middle class women who home school. It's possible they do this because they wish to retain control. I suppose it is also possible that some educated women, usually middle class, feel that they can educate their children better than a school can, where their particular child may get lost in a class of 30+.

Is this the woman who is a good mother? The one who has sacrificed her own life and says things like, 'There's nothing more important than our children.' The middle class though are not the only ones who consider their children their most precious 'possessions' - the working class would also put their children as top priority. But, in my view admirably, the working class just get on with bringing up children, they don't make an art form out of it, and if they tell them to stop 'mithering' and to get out of their way, it does not mean that these parents love them any the less. It also does not mean that they are bad mothers.

What concerns me about some mothers, is that they behave as if they are the ones with all the answers, they have the indisputable rule book. written by themselves and so millennia of childrearing is thus rendered useless.

Some mothers see their children as a reflection on themselves, thus a narcissistic element is present. The attempt at total control though will certainly fail. Good mother or bad mother, whatever is your view, children become independent people and will develop their own views, whatever mummy and daddy say.

So what is a good mother then? I would suggest that a good mother is one who allows her child to feel bored sometimes, who does not give her undivided attention to the child, who makes the child realise that the world does not revolve around him/her, which is as good a lesson as anyone can have. I see many mothers reasoning with their child as to why some action the child has committed is not ideal, even when it involves whacking someone else. Asking the child what it was that made them do that? Were they feeling angry? Why was that? Dear God! Sometimes things are simply wrong and a child should be told so without delving into their current mental state.

Might I add that those who sacrifice their lives for their children may well regret it later. Someone who I know had 3 daughters upon whom she doted. She was a deputy head teacher, gave it up on the birth of child number 1 and decided to bring to the child all she knew. The next 2 were born which only inflamed her wish to be all things to her offspring. When they spoke, often interrupting adult conversation, they were immediately the top priority. What happened to, 'Shush, I'm talking.'

Thirty tears on and the 2 older children are abroad, and nor do they speak to their mother. It is heartbreaking to witness her pain at the loss. The youngest one is still at home, until September. She is a recovering drug addict and funded her habit by prostitution. That is not to say that such tragedy happens in all families where the children rule the roost, but it is a warning.

Jo Cox - Rest Peacefully

For a good while now I have not had much respect for politicians. The expenses scandal, the use of official cars to travel 100 yards, the nest feathering, claims for bathplugs, dog food and duck houses - all most off-putting. There are a few for whom I have some respect: Dennis Skinner, Jeremy Corbyn, Rachel Reeves and Jess Philips. These are all Labour MPs and I am a Labour Party member. Even so, I don't have a deal of time for many of the Labour MPs. As for the Tories, well... I'll explain another day, maybe.

I had never heard of Jo Cox until yesterday, when the news broke of a shooting and stabbing in Batley and Spen. A short while later the news came of her death. A woman aged 41, an MP who had worked for Oxfam, entered war zones and held the hands of women who had been gang raped and thus excluded and ostracised from their communities.

Jo Cox was a woman who didn't just express sorrow and regret as to what was happening in war torn countries; Jo Cox was a woman who actually went to those places with little regard for her own safety. Most of us, the vast majority, in fact, including myself, make sympathetic noises, may even be sufficiently moved as to make  donation to a cause, safely ensconced in our own homes. Joe was different.

A local Batley girl, she was bright enough to gain a place at Cambridge University. Her time there was not the most comfortable, largely because not many people there had an accent like hers. I have personal experience of how an accent can affect those around you, those around you being best described as snobs. My son, a Sheffield lad through and through, was also bright enough to secure a place at a top ranking university - Oxford in his case. Initially, he was asked by fellow students to say the words, bus, path and stuff - and those listening would laugh and marvel at how northern he was. Later, and no longer in awe of their wealth and their 'poshness' he told those who asked to f... off.

Elected in 2015 as a Labour MP for the place in which she grew up, Jo achieved her dream of representing the people she knew and understood so well. It was these people and all disadvantaged people for whom she campaigned. She spoke her mind and was not cowed by the fact that she was relatively young, inexperienced, and spoke with a Yorkshire accent. I imagine that her love of climbing mountains, which she did 'to relax' is evidence of the measure of the woman.

The pictures, so recent, that are in my head are of her striding confidently, dressed in a blue jacket and red trousers. Another image I have stuck in my head from the recent coverage is of her speaking in the House of Commons, putting her point forcibly to those in attendance.

An image of my own creation is of Jo, husband Brendan and her 2 young children living on a houseboat in East London. She's putting them to bed, kissing them goodnight, relishing the feeling all of us experience when you know the children are safe and quiet, and you can enjoy whatever part of the evening remains, albeit it sometimes as little as 10 minutes.

Of course her husband will miss her terribly, but he is a man in his early 40s who can remarry. This is not intended to sound heartless, but in time, he will meet someone else. What I find so heart breaking about Jo's death is that she had to leave the children that she loved.  Those 2 children will never know the ferocity, the protectiveness, the unconditional love a mother gives.

Time will tell what the motive for the murder was, but in many ways it is immaterial - Jo is dead. Perhaps what will come out of it is a gentler, more honest, more sensitive politics. Bt would even that be worth her life?

Such a Sad Day

Today I visited my 90 year old aunt who is now in a care home for the Elderly Mentally Infirm - EMI. The staff were lovely, it has to be said. As I searched the room for my aunt, it was hard to single her out amongst the silver heads sitting in chairs, heads lolling, mouths open, mostly napping.

There she was. I gasped at the change in her in just three days. Three days ago, though she wasn't doing brilliantly, she was better than this. On reaching her, her eyes seemed to be misted. unseeing, dead. I was surprised then, as she lifted her head and said, 'Hello Ruth love.' A lump in my throat, tears pricking my eyes, I had all on to utter, 'Hello Auntie Pat, how are you?'
Her reply broke my heart. 'I don't know where I am.'

Of course, I told her where she was but she couldn't grasp it. I took her for a short walk, out in the fresh air. She asked me if I'd seen her sister, Jean, who had been dead for thirty years. I may have been wrong but I told her that Jean was fine. She liked that. She also asked how Michael was but I had no idea who he was. When she was younger my aunt was very glamorous and attracted a lot of boyfriends. I wondered if Michael was an old boyfriend. I asked her who he was and what he looked like. She said he was in his twenties, tall and dark and was wearing a brown jacket. I told her I would look out for him. She smiled.

After a while she asked if she could lie down. I took her to her room and helped her lie down on the bed. Within seconds her eyes closed. I stayed a while, cried a little, then left. The guilt at leaving her there was overwhelming.

I'll go to see her again in a couple of days. It's no fun for me, but for her? I can only imagine...

He is Found! Relief in Japan as Missing Boy Turns up.

More than six days after his parents abandoned him, albeit temporarily, or so they thought, Yamato Tanooka has been found in an army hut, alive and unhurt. The fact that the hut was unlocked was very lucky as usually the army lock it.

Yamato was taken to hospital suffering from dehydration. While his son was being treated, the father appeared at the entrance to the hospital and tried to explain his actions, emphasising how he had apologised profusely to his son.

The parents were of course right to discipline their son but next time it might be an idea to take his computer off him and stop him playing computer games for a few days, rather than repeating the abandonment method near bear infested forests.

The Last Time - This Could be The Last Time

You won't know that it is the last time, even when it is the last time. The last time could refer to anything. It could be the last time that see you a person. You didn't realise at the time, but you may see someone, talk to them and say goodbye, never for a second believing or even registering the fact that this could be the last time you would ever see that person. 

When was the last time you kissed your child goodnight? When they were a toddler, a five year old, a teenager? Was it last week, last decade? And a friend you're really fond of - when did you last see them or have you already had the last time you'll see them, but you just don't know it yet?

There will be a last time that you visit a certain city, resort, country. There'll be a final plane journey, bus journey, tube journey and car journey. You may, if you think about it at all, know that this is the last time you'll take a particular journey, but the likelihood is that you won't.

When I try to remember the last time I did certain things, sometimes just unimportant things, mostly I have no idea. A student teacher asked me if I could remember the last time that I had used chalk, rather than using a marker pen on a whiteboard. Of course - I had absolutely no idea. Changes take place and you don't register them, but it stands to reason that there was a last time.

I've started thinking about this lately quite a lot, especially in view of my friend's recent death which I wrote about here - A Sudden and Shocking Death. For ages Marlene and I had been saying we should meet. The months went on and we didn't fix anything up. We sent each other birthday cards and Christmas cards. What we didn't do was get round to meeting. We were actually due to meet the day before she died, but then we were prevented. How I wish that we had arranged to meet previously and now, of course, I cannot remember the last time we did meet, nor did I realise that our last meeting would be our last meeting.

I should take this as a warning. For the last few months another friend of mine and I have said that we will meet. It's been over six months now and still we haven't got a date in the diary. What is it that holds us back? Is it the sense that we have loads of time to fit in a meeting? Is it laziness perhaps? Whatever it is, one thing is for sure. Tomorrow I will ring her and offer three dates. Tomorrow will be the day that we arrange to meet - for definite.