Building Bridges

After my rant yesterday, came the contrition. It always does when I let loose on my country because I am at heart a UK patriot and know there is so much that the United Kingdom has to offer the rest of the world. As every country and civilisation, it has its dark sides and its moments of glory. Put the events of say the last 3000 years in to a melting pot, stir well and out comes a dish that is, as our modern day TV chefs like to say, harmonious, tasty and with positive nutritional value.

While I am a patriot of the “land of my fathers” or more accurately "England's pastures green", I have been lucky in my life to see and experience on a longer basis, a different perspective of our world. Born and raised on a tiny island (Trinidad) my school education, personality development and initial work and family experiences took place on the British island. For the most part these were good and positive times.

Then came the maturing phase which took place in the heart of a continent of strange peoples and cultures. Loads of new experiences and challenges, many of them happy and exhilarating but increasingly, especially with age, hard and disappointing. Often the thought has been of returning to the motherland and the safety of its cliffs and shores.

There is no doubt in my mind that “islanders” are different. They have to be. Often the elements alone are a major adversary but they also have a very easily defined territory and a step on, or off, this territory is an undertaking that needs to be planed. A ferry crossing leaving the safety of the White Cliffs of Dover is like setting out on an unknown voyage. In my early days, one was armed with all the requisites to survive amongst the cannibals in the misty blur in front of the bows; a tin of fruit lozenges from Boots which within a day or two of continental heat, would become one sticky block; the folder of AA maps that never quite told the whole story as one learnt just 30 minutes out of Calais – Brugge or Bruges?: Ghent, Gent or Gand?: Liège, Lidge, Luik, Luke or Lüttich? – “Turn around Father, we just took the wrong road.” Followed by the response “Why can’t you ever learn to read maps Mother?” And the excitement of the journey ahead disappeared mile for kilometre.

However, after almost exactly 30 years as an islander and 30 years as a mainlander, my perspective on life has forcibly been widened to realise both can be positive. However the tendency of the islanders to pull up the drawbridge and seek the protection of the high ramparts, as soon as danger looms, is strongly engrained. From there one can shoot off ones arrows, there is no need to find a compromise. The Frenchman may however go to work every day in Belgium, the Belgian in Holland, the Dutchman in Germany, the German in Denmark, the Dane in Sweden, the Swede in Norway, the Norwegian in Finland, The Finn in Lithuanian ……. Germany alone has nine different borders. The islander feels safe once he has pushed the danger back in to the sea. The mainlander stands no chance. He has to find a solution or else war breaks out with all its consequences.

The United Kingdom has for centuries enjoyed influence that is far beyond its physical size in the global world. Much of this has been positive for the rest of the world but it has also led to a very over inflated opinion of itself and downright arrogance. They need us more than we need them; the enemy; win or lose…. For the majority of the mainlanders faced with the same problems, they know they can’t face it alone. They may well tighten the controls but they can’t survive for long. That is why even a breakaway nationalist movement such as in Catalonia, still seeks the safety of a European Union, a potential controller far more threatening than its own hated central government.

I need the UK to be a successful, prospering country. My British daughter and grandchildren live on the “wrong” side of the Irish-Irish border but rely on the UK for much of their “daily bread”. My son lives and works in Britain, a sizeable amount of his company’s income comes from foreign citizens living in the UK and he thrives every day saving up for the pennies for the next holiday adventure in some new part of the world. I rely on the UK for my future existence – a large part of my pension is UK based. I cannot and certainly will not cut the mooring line.

I seek my daily protection in the safety of the Blip world where I can watch over the Blip family members in the UK and far beyond. And when I fire off an arrow, its only ever a warning shot and never with a pointed end.

Today’s Blip was taken during Flash’s and my morning walk. The girls had gone for a longer more invigorating exercise. So as we OAPs stumbled over the now mown fields and meandered along the stream, I was having my “home thoughts from abroad”.

If Phoebe in Cornwall lifts her legs squats on a piece of driftwood, the result will be washed away and the matter closed. If Flash lifts his leg on the edge of the bridge, the result will flow through hundreds of kilometres of Bavaria, then Austria, Slowakia, Hungary, Croatia, Serbia, Romania, Bulgaria, Moldovia and Ukraine before emptying in to the Black Sea, flowing past Istanbul in to the Med before being squeezed through the straights of Gibraltar and finally lapping on to the sand of West Wittering beach.

I think Flash and I might just put a message in an empty Pimms bottle tomorrow and despite the world environmental conference in Germany this week, slide it in to our “Soddenbach” stream and look forward to one day raising a toast with one of the Blip sisters in the UK.

And today is the official start of the Bavarian 100th anniversary celebrations. On 8th November 2018, I hope a member of the now reunited UK parliament will attend (with an authorisation memo from their boss) the event somewhere in Munich and stand to the voices singing the Bavarian Hymn. Perhaps then allowing themselves the opportunity to lend some unique British humour to the festivities.