I know that most of you will have had enough of my political meanderings but, let’s face it, there’s a lot of it about at the mo.
Shamima Berum. Now there’s a story. What I don’t get is the press reporting that the public don’t want her back in the UK, and that Sajid Javid has bowed to popular opinion by removing her citizenship. Well, no offence all of you, but that’s not my opinion. And I reckon I’m not alone. And it’s not about the fact that us snowflaking liberals think she deserves a second chance. Or that, like a Nazi wife, if she’s not pulled a trigger she shouldn’t be held to the same set of rules as their really unpleasant husbands. I’m clear … she deserves to be subject to the full force of the law and dealt with accordingly.
It’s not about that. It’s about two much more important things.
First, she’s ours. and we are a grown up country (tee-hee, looking at Brexit …). By banishing her to the third poorest country in the world, Bangladesh, we’re passing a buck which should not be passed. Who do we think we are? ‘You have her! We don’t want her.’ Well, sorry, but that’s neither fair, nor what a first-world country should do.
Second, what message are we sending to the almost-radicalised? What about her family and friends in the UK? And the extended ex-Bangladeshis in and around the country? What are they now thinking? I’ll tell you what they’re thinking. ‘My country doesn’t like Muslims. This is how they treat our sister. A woman with a child.’ I know I overstate this here, but the rule of thumb is for every terrorist you kill, you spawn five more. Not bringing Shamima Berum home is sending all the wrong messages and encouraging radicalisation.
As for her poor child. It’s not the kid’s fault. And if it grows up to be a nomadic Islamist, I’m pretty sure it will not look kindly on its nation.
And all because the right-wing xenophobes are shouting the loudest. Shame.
Moving on, and briefly staying on politics. I don’t know what the eleven independents stand for, but I’m voting for them. The choice appears to be the caricatures of Johnson, Rees-Mogg and Corbyn … all of whom have agendas to which I cannot subscribe. Or a new grouping which finds the middle ground. I reckon the eleven will soon be twelve … and then there may be a tipping point. We’ll see.
We had a lovely walk on Sunday at the Newport Wetlands and then popped and saw an old army pal of ours, Daren (his wife was working locally). Daren is a few years behind us … and is just a couple of years away from pushing off into the sunset in their Hymer. They’re v excited, a feeling I remember well. Between now and then they have a number of trips planned. Today, for example, they’re heading to the Alps skiing in her! We’ve never skied from a van and it took monumental effort not to say ‘sod it’, load the van and follow them south.
This week has been a day at a school, two days with Jen and today, a day pottering around in the summer sunshine (that what it feels like). We’ve laid some grass seed down in the back garden, cleaned the car and I did some work in Doris … just messing.
C’s sister, Annie, is down tomorrow for the weekend, which will be nice.
Oh. And we’ve had a flirtation with solar panels on the roof. I’ve had a couple of quotes, including fitting a battery to store excess sunshine. The cost is between £5 and 7.5k, which would save us in the order of £350 a year in electricity. The maths doesn’t make sense (pay back takes as long as 15 years), so any decision would be about spending some money for the benefit of the world, which is not a bad reason, but … it’s a lot of thousands of pounds. No decision yet.
Have a great end of week.