Poundland
After a brief sojourn in the northern reaches I have returned to Britain. Just a couple of weeks spent in my adopted land, where most things, however imperfect they may be, operate relatively smoothly. There is evidence all around of maintenance, repair, and even renewal, and because the locals cleverly export their carbon footprint and use renewables, the air is clean and fresh. It brought the sights, sounds and smells of England into sharp relief. We arrived at patched-up, barely-functioning, hugely expensive travel portals, populated by tired people barking orders at stragglers. After an hour, I had the most creepy feeling as my lungs started to refill with particulates and noxious gases... three million premature deaths a year are attributed to this brew of sulfate, nitrates and black carbon.
Still, I love my country, after a fashion. I have the same affection for it as I once had for my grandparents' house, which however much I loved them and spending time there, always made me feel unwell. They heated it with coal and single bar electric fires and it never seemed to be warm. "Put on a another jumper," said Nan, "and I'll knit you some lovely gloves while I make dinner." Kindly, she always did so, and I still have several dozen pairs, all of them perfect and itchy, some still smelling of suet.
So we meandered back, lugging cases, through the patchwork of metal and tarmac canals, allowing the oppressive weight of first world poverty to re-assemble, and decided to have our last day off in London. Not all of it, obviously, actually just a tiny part of south west London. We took in news. We drank tea. We re-aligned ourselves with the populace. The UK economy is crawling, while all over Europe it seems to be moving again. Everywhere, everyone seems to be just surviving, under the kinds of pressures that snaps metal and brings bridges down suddenly and disastrously.
The pound, said the news, had hit a 168 year low. I found myself thinking how appropriate it is that these days I refer to my broken country as Poundland. I looked at streets and houses, and in my mind's eye saw rubble, bombsites which existed everywhere in post-1945 British cities after the country had beaten fascism but was smashed up and totally broke. Still, we rebuilt, didn't we, National Health Service, National Rail, even though we owed billions.
In those days there was at least moral certainty, but that has gone. What have we done recently which pulled the entire nation together? I can't think of anything. I think we will have to rebuild again soon, but this time the rubble won't be from bombs, but evaporated trade deals, bad national management, and a defunct currency brought on by loon-eyed Brexiteers. So, I'm hoping the cryptocurrencies provide enough stability to allow us to get our acts together, because nation states are starting to fail us.
Toodle-pip!