After the big melt two things happened.
Our cellar flooded and South East Water turned our water off.
After the rain came two things happened.
Our cellar flooded again and South East Water turned our water off.
Burst pipes, leaves on the line, racoons wrestling, whatever the excuse we are without water.
Cooking, teeth brushing, washing, flushing, living without water is a pain. Our WhatsApp group shares information. But we are all at a loss as to how we will wash our Brussel sprouts and steam our puddings on Sunday. The rage I feel at the broken infra structure of this country keeps me out of bed. I am sitting in the kitchen at 3.28 surrounded by bottled water and dirty pots. There is a kind of suspended animation going on, a wierd energy surrounding the cottage. There’s an inexplicable silence caused by the helplessness of the situation.
And of course I’m not living in a tent in Calais or bobbing around in a dinghy or dodging bullets in Ukraine, but I am suffering from a dozen years of ineffectual government. A government that refuses to talk, refuses to take leadership, a government who blames rather than take responsibility.
In her later years my mother used to write letters to the council. Complaining about the lack of a warden in her warden controlled flats, she fought for alarms for the elderly, she complained about the lack of support she received, living alone, as an 85-year old. I am now tempted to write to Wealden District Council to complain about the state of our roads, the cutting down of ancient woodland, and the building of umpteen new housing estates which have become prt of the problem. Our little town cannot cope with houses worth half a million quid who are leeching water and screwing up the sewage system. I’m tired of feeling angry. I’m exhausted at my incessant grumbling.
And now our roof is crumbling. For nearly forty years we’ve paid an insurance company more money than sense and now unless a block of piss falls out of an aeroplane they wont pay us to fix it. It’s wear and tear they tell us, so as the tiles slide off the roof and the guttering leaks, and the water slides down the wall and the cellar floods again I will have to get used to wearing Wellington boots when I do the ironing.
I am quietly seething, as indeed are millions of others. We are a mob at a silent disco, dancing together, on our own, our headphones blaring into our ears, without the joy of a communal experience. I’m told a new paradigm is coming that the only constant is change Astrological configurations are telling us that there’s a new beginning but the brutality of life under Sunak is mind numbing. He represents an insipid cruelty, a lack of understanding of what life is like outside his billionaire bubble. His kind do not govern, they stand by as bags of shite pile up in the streets then condemn the lowly for not clearing it up. Those Conservatives are careless people, obnoxious destructive human beings who wouldn’t last five minutes standing out side a supermarket flogging a Big Issue. They should be made to live for six months in a damp, mouldy flat on benefits without heating, eating or joy.
This seriously dangerous government should be made to queue in A&E for twelve hours, they should have their privileges removed. They should be made to suffer the indignities of poverty. They should be denied fancy restaurant meals, jolly holidays, trips to the ballet. They should be made to feel what it’s like to be trapped in a life that seemingly has no future.
They need shaking, they need waking up, they need go be re-educated in their roles as representatives of the people. Short sighted, greedy fuckers who still haven’t housed the Grenfell Tower victims, mean spirited arseholes who think nothing of killing communities.
High streets are broken, libraries are closing, swimming pools are being removed, and what are those dolts doing? Demonising nurses, rubbishing railway workers, maligning postmen. We are stumbling towards the edge of the cliff and like lemmins, unless we think again, we’ll hold hands and jump off.
Just what exactly are they doing? What do they actually care about? Who do they care about? The next generation has been brought up without a societal conscience – just what they want. As long as we stop thinking they can get away with murder. And they are murdering the lives of millions. Savaging hope. Raping aspirations. Killing dreams.
Empty words help nobody. My complaints are cliché ridden. I fantasise about screaming in the faces of those smug bastards, of poking them, of pushing and pulling them to see the destitute. To shock them into seeing a reality that they have created. In plain sight they defend themselves as they take billions of our money for their own benefit.
The immorality, the corruption, the greed of these spiteful vipers is never-ending.
Complaining helps with the blood pressure, but only for a small while. Action needs to be taken to stop them. The small voice of rebellion has started. Old and young alike have had enough. But that small voice must grow into a roar. Th world is shuddering under the mismanagement of insatiable, ravenous swines.
Christmas is coming but only a few will be eating the fatted goose. Most of us will be penny pinching and budget sharing. I can only wish that the spirit of the Jewish lad from Nazareth prevails. As Netanyahu brings in the most right wing government in years, we can look foreword to more wretched wars, as the Imams impose more restrictions on women, as China and Russia wave their warmongering willies around, as Europe veers to the right, let us pray that a monstrous regiment will return common sense and love to our tiny little Island.
So given that my Reason for Goodwill has all but vanished I still wish you a very merry Christmas and a happy new year.