An Interesting Week

A and I have just come back from a week in Devon, staying at the delightful Honeysuckle Hideaway just outside Cullompton. It took us 5 years, but we got back finally (ok, that's a small fib because I took my parents there for a couple of days last summer, but we stayed in Rose Retreat, the larger cottage). It was lovely to be there again, looking at the sheep, although the weather was pretty lousy - cold, windy and a fair bit of rain. However, never in my wildest dreams did I expect to be sharing my holiday with Margaret Thatcher. At times it seemed like we talked of nothing else.

To give a little background, A and I have differing political views. I'm a wishy-washy liberal, with splinters in my bum and a crick in my neck (too much sitting on the fence and seeing things from both sides) that generally feels a country with a welfare service and the NHS is A Good Thing. The joke about A, on the other hand, was that if you cut him in half, ToryBoy was written through him like a stick of Blackpool Rock. I believe in social housing and community; he believes in capitalism. However we are both clearly Thatcher's children - we were 9 when she came to power, 20 when she was forced to resign. Love her or loathe her, you couldn't ignore the way she influenced our political views as we grew up. I am not a fan of many of her policies and her treatment of some northern cities in the 80s was nothing short of appalling (remember, I've lived in the North West now longer than I ever lived in Oxfordshire), but I find myself at the end of this week feeling very uncomfortable about some of the things that have been said and the way some people have behaved.

Thatcher was a divisive politician, of that there is no doubt, and although there were moments of financial strain in our working class household as I grew up, our lives weren't turned upside down like those of mining communities up and down the country. However some elements of the British public seem to have decided that the implementation of these, and other, hard line policies give them the right to ignore the fact that she was a person with a family who are left behind. Let me put this into perspective - this week, a frail 87 year old woman, who suffered a number of strokes and quite possibly wasn't aware of much of the outside world any more, died. Whether you supported her policies or thought her the worst thing to happen to Britain ever, she was still someone's mother, someone's granny. Ding, dong the witch is dead?  Really? From where I'm standing, that reaction looks insensitive at best and vituperative at worst.

I can't help wondering what the reaction would have been had we been marking the passing of a former Prime Minister who had introduced exactly the same policies, made the same polarising decisions and won three General Elections but was male, not female. Would the vitriol still be flowing? I don't know the answer to that but there's a tiny little voice that can't be silenced that says "No". And that both saddens and worries me, because looking at the young men (who let's be honest are barely old enough to have been born whilst Thatcher was in Number10) dancing in the streets this week, I wonder how they would cope with a woman in power now.

Two Years On...

I was excited by the idea of the Coalition Government - after all, it was the only realistic way that the Liberal Democrats would be able to influence policies in the current system. The catalogue of disparaging comments aimed towards Nick Clegg was phenomenal, some with just cause.

I don't know enough about the inner workings of what goes on at Local or National Government to comment with any authority, but that seldom seems to stop anyone else, so maybe I should cough up my two pennyworth anyway. I can't see a way forward here - whilst Opposition and Conservative  backbenchers merrily berate Cameron and Osborne as "two posh boys who, when something goes wrong, sack the servants" where is Clegg? What is he doing to distance himself from the posh boy image?

At the risk of sounding like someone from my mother's generation, we appear to be going to hell in a hand basket.

And there's more...

A has just told me about George Osbourne's taxi fare that he's been ordered to pay back. He had a constituency meeting (I'm guessing in Knutsford, since that's the centre of the Tatton constituency) that finished after the last train to London. Now, I've caught a train at 6 o'clcok before now to be in London and that was not the first train of the day. Is this was George did so he could be in London for his early morning appointment the next day?

No, of course not. He hired a cab. £440. Fab. That's more than many people pay in tax per month. Hell, it's more than some people in his constituency earn in a month.

Sheesh.

B$@@#y Dog food

Many people who know A and I wonder how we got it together. He is affectionately known to some of our friends as Tory Boy. I, however, think of myself as a liberal with a broad socialist streak. A believes in survival of the fittest in a dog eat dog world; I believe all of us have a responsibility to support those members of society who, for whatever genuine reason, are at that moment in time unable to support themselves. We seldom discuss politics because whilst I am prepared to listen to another's point of view even if I don't agree with it, A just sticks his fingers in his ears and sings "La, la, la, I can't hear you."

Over the last little while, however, politics has been discussed in our house and this week has seen me reduced virtually speechless by some politicians' views regarding their expenses.

Last year I could be heard wondering aloud why an MP's second home would need such expensive items as those from the "John Lewis" list. Within the last couple of months I have failed to understand why the Home Secretary was able to claim for any TV, let alone her husband's choice in adult pay-per-view movies. And don't get me started on that bath plug. You can't afford 88p?

This last week, though, has taken the biscuit. As I shuffle around the house trying to deal with the delights of catching up on planning, marking Optional SATs and reviewing the school's assessment details, my contemplative silence is broken by Tourette's style outbursts.

N: Mutter mutter

A: What's that love?

N: Mutter mutter

A: No, still didn't catch what you said.

N: B$@@#y dog food!

I don't CARE that every one of the little slimeballs in our venerable (cough) Government is legally entitled to claim for this ludicrous list of allowances in relation to second homes - the question is are they morally entitled to them? I have no quibble with MPs from regions across the UK needing a residence in London. I do have a quibble with MPs who think this entitles them to claim for housekeepers, moat repairs, lawnmowers and effing dog food. Sorry, but where does this come into the grand scheme of things?

I am a primary teacher and like many, I suspect that I buy things for my classroom or lessons that I would be entitled to claim back, but don't because "it's only a couple of quid". Did the woman with the dog food think that? What about that Jacquie Smith's bath plug?

A works in industry. He visits different customers around the country and could stay away overnight in hotels - but he doesn't. He views pretty much anywhere is the UK as within a reasonable distance to return to Cheshire. "I can get back home", he says, "so I do". He also visits Europe, and again, tries to go out and back in a day rather than clock up hotel bills. When he does stay away, he is expected to stay in mid-price range hotels. He could probably write a thesis on the corporate branding of Holiday Inn or Novotel. He is entitled to claim the mileage from home to the airport, but doesn't because it is less than his usual home to work mileage.

Now don't get me wrong - I don't live with a paragon of virtue by any means. Both of us have had our fair share of works stationary for personal use. We both benefit from the Airmiles A clocks up on our credit card when he pays for his hotels up front. But he does not claim for every single cup of coffee or bottle of water he has when he's away, because he doesn't feel that's appropriate to do so.

So why has it not occurred to some of our MPs that some of the things they have been claiming for are not morally acceptable? Why on earth should any taxpayer have to pay for someone's TV subscription? We voted them into Parliament to represent us, not to watch Sky. They're welcome to keep a dog, but good grief - you want one, you feed it.

But you know the bit that really rankles?

They don't seem to be struggling to find the money to repay any of these five figure sums... which begs the question of why they needed to claim for them in the first place....

Enough Already!

It is a week since Super Tuesday and still the British media are ruminating on the long-drawn-out process of selecting American Presidential candidates.

I mean, don't get me wrong, I am interested in the fact that there could be some groundbreaking choices made in the final scheme of things, but it's a long way off and I'd probably feel more positive about the whole new gender/race thing if the potential Republican candidate was Condaleezza Rice as opposed to some old white bloke (no offence to old white blokes or members of the Grand Old Party intended).

Last time I spoke with C she was giving careful thought to her vote. She has probably already made up her mind, but just in case she hasn't, I thought she might like to consuider this option, courtesy of The Panopticon:



Go Dolores!