Update 29
One day left of 2022 and there’s very little upon which to report. A year in which I learned that my life was to be cut short by a glioblastoma, in which we were to endure more government incompetence than in previous living memory, and in which full scale war returned to European soil. Boris Johnson, Liz Truss and Rishi Sunak all got to have a go at re-decorating number 10 Downing Street but none of them were able to demonstrate even the slenderest ability to get a proper grip on the governance of the UK.
Britain showed itself as a laughing stock in front of the entire world, claiming to be a successful economy yet at the same time, one for whom millions were dependent upon government hand-outs or yes, food banks. British children go hungry, school teachers have to launder or replace their students’ clothes. Margaret and I fund one of our family to buy the things she needs for her teaching role but for which the school has no funds. I can’t believe how desperately short almost all budgets are running.
As government fails more and more comprehensively, we the people are having to step in to fund government programmes directly. It’s as though Attlee’s brilliant 1945 initiatives have nearly all been undone and we’re back looking after ourselves. I remember my Mum & Dad talking about paying the bill for my birth and for any other visit by a doctor, all of whom were then independent private operators. There were horrendous stories of people being unable to pay and therefore unable to be looked after by health professionals. Of course there has been progress, but now we’re slipping backwards - at least that pleases the Brexiteers who can of course only find solace looking in that direction.
When Theresa May was Home Secretary she got rid of 20,000 police officers because she claimed crime was reducing and they were no longer needed. In fact crime levels have got worse and under Johnson there was an unfulfilled plan to replace the 20,000. So far around 15,000 have been signed up but according to the i they’re now resigning just as fast as they’re joining. Poor morale because of critical investigations, and what are perceived as poor pay levels, are not helping.
My condition remains pretty stable - legs are wobbly, hands less so, I’m enjoying conversation, food and wine. Last night for instance, Jo and Steve and Eddie drove over from Kent for steak with dauphinoises potatoes, a bottle of San Veran followed by a special Primitivo called ‘Selvarossa deli Confratelli’. It’s the top wine from Angelo Maci whose Pillastro d’Oro I’ve been drinking for years.
The junior Blackmores are currently enjoying three weeks on the Australian Gold Coast - they swam in the Pacific first thing on Christmas morning but a shark warning soon brought them back to shore. Harry and his girlfriend Emily have left the others at Corrumbin and gone down to Sydney to welcome in the New Year. We did that back in 1995 and I’ll never forget the firework display over the harbour bridge. We had dinner at the Regent Hotel to the accompaniment of a great little band whose repertoire drew heavily on the Motown and Atlantic catalogues whilst we drew on our Montecristo number 4s - it was a long time ago.
I finished ‘The Murder of Roger Ackroyd’ and have moved on to Agatha Christie’s ‘The Mysterious Affair at Styles’. I’ve watched ‘Frozen’ for the first (and certainly the last) time, ‘Goodfellas’ held my attention for a while but the violence was just too casual. I thoroughly enjoyed the Detectorists’ special feature and am tempted to tackle the actual series.
