One wheel on my wagon
Actually, I think that fell off shortly after the photo was taken and I got home to a cup of coffee and a UK TV news update. I'll do the Blip bit first as I am also going to rip out after that!
The saga of getting my Jeep to its biennial TÜV or as the Brits may know it MOT, has been a very boring non-event. The village garage owner had said back in early August, after sticking back on the entire front end after I had ripped it off on a lamp post, that he would get it through. Too busy just then but in a week or two. Now in a month or two later, it's getting critical. He, his partner and children are friends and that actually makes it a little tricky. So I sent Angie around last week!
Today dropped it off. We will see what happens but as he said don't expect a call to come and collect it in the very near future. Just to make things worse, the weather forecasts are now starting to include snowflakes on the charts and with the mandatory need to have winter tyres, the garage is in great demand. Some people want someone to change the tyres for them and the rest think they can do it themselves then realise when they get the winter tyres out of the cellar that they are bald and they forgot to order new ones and everywhere is sold out and thus they end up at the garage.
So there was a lot of action going on and at least 4 people running around. As normal the owner let loose a few here comes the Brit jokes as I entered. I simply asked him where the valuable Morgan plus 8 he claimed to be restoring for himself was? "Right in front of you, you blind Brit." With my still stiff neck, I hadn't raised my eyes. Sure enough there it was or least one half of it. I suspect the project will give me potential Blips for several months to come. I suggested that British Racing Green may be more appropriate than Italian Nero.
The others in the garage didn't know who I was and then the question came - "Are you English?" And so a long discussion started. The one in his twenties told me of his great times in Whitechapel and Camden Town, the other in his 40's about his lovely old canvas-roofed Land Rover 88 and Triumph motorbike. Nero chipped in by saying his annual Morgan enthusiasts meetings are the most fun, by far, of any such group of vintage car enthusiasts, and lots of crazy, wonderful Brits.
Everyone expressed their love of the quirky, uncomfortable, unreliable, machines and talk of the old British values. However to a man they simply do not understand the island inhabitants anymore - lots of head shaking and hands up asking what is going on?
I didn't have a single answer. Very very depressing.
Back home took out my frustration on Angie's car by changing the tyres. Luckily the winter tyres are fit for purpose, at least for this winter. The dismounted summer tyres will need to be renewed if we still have the unloved French skateboard at Easter. I would suggest on balance that the Germans have great respect for the French and their enormous act of graciousness in forgiving the Germans for their occupation of their country in WWII but probably find it easier to build a personal friendship with a Brit, even if he still insists on telling his ever so funny "Don't mention the War" jokes.
The cup of warming coffee afterwards and a glimpse at SkyNews on TV finally did me in. I can't repeat the words that came out. How can it be that the entire country is not taking to the streets to demonstrate against its leaders - to be frank, it doesn't matter what party or what position?
The state of the country was an embarrassment in the last few years, even under Cameron. Now it's in such a state that many of those in positions of responsibility should be facing criminal charges.
For decades we have had politicians and personalities misusing their positions for sexual and financial self-reward and for decades we simply wink and brush it aside. At best we lock up a few of the blatant ones but ignore the concerns of a few frightened people who have the courage to stand up. No effort to eradicate these things - they aren't right in 2017, just as they weren't right in 1960 or 1930 or 1830....
But now we have leaders who are totally dependent on the citizens for everything they have, making personal gain and involved in at best dubious deals that show no understanding of the very basics of ethics.
But that's still harmless to the actions of those who are putting people's lives at risk, delving into matters they don't understand and working on some hidden power agenda. And we still then get the jack-in-a-box idiots calling themselves MPs queuing up in front of the TV cameras to defend these criminals and blurting out "Taking back control, taking back control" more often than Polly the Parrot.
And all aided by a press that has not a jot of ethics, not a single care about what they write so long as it sells papers and secures their miserable existences. Now we have a human corpse to show how good they are.
As there are no facts, I can't judge the circumstances of the specific case. BUT a climate where those who have been found out and proved to have done wrong, don't apologise and are excused their crimes because they are patriotic swash-buckling Brexiteers is fine, while a whole family is grieving tonight with no chance to get to the truth of why their father, brother, husband, grandfather .... took his own life. No chance to question him, if necessary to swear and shout at him, no chance to help him. Try to think how you would stand as his widow beside his coffin at his funeral - did he, didn't he?
What a disgusting horrible environment reigns in the Kingdom.
The only thing that makes it bearable is that I know that the majority of Brits are actually good normal decent people. My fear is though that I don't see a glimmer of hope, other than a mass rejection by the moderate, decent MPs from all parties mounting a coup.
And I would rather nobody comments on the above. Instead just ask yourself if you can have a good conscience when one day your children, grandchildren, nieces, nephews ... ask you "what did you do back then Grandpa......? "
I sadly can't cast a vote, nor can I march the lanes of Piddleton-on-the- Piddle with a banner. All I have is Blip and I apologise to all poor Blipers who might have ventured here by mistake. Luckily a few Blipers know my habit of raging blurb and simply give me a tap on the shoulder and say "All will be fine, have a second cup of Ovaltine, dear".
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