There are so many things in life we take for granted, simple things like the ability to eat, move or sleep.  These are things we never really think about until we suddenly find we can't eat, sleep or move, for whatever reason.  A few weeks ago, I was having a very enjoyable Sunday, a day out to the beach with a stop off at An Grianan Aligh on the way home to admire the spectacular views on a cool, sunny, autumn afternoon.  What started off as a dull ache in my right side gradually turned into something much more painful by bedtime, requiring the use of painkillers and every home recipe I could think of, to counteract what I assumed was, a bad case of indigestion.

After a restless night, things had calmed a bit by Monday morning. I was expecting a gradual lessening of pain and discomfort through the course of the day but the pain remained constant and I spent another sleepless night trying to find a comfortable position which lessened the pain and ate little more than soup for fear of making things worse. By Tuesday, I suspected something more was going on than simple indigestion as the site of the pain had now swollen to include a hard lump.  Things gradually worsened over the course of the week with trips to the doctor and A&E, where I was finally admitted on the Friday with an inflamed gallbladder.  A scan revealed a large stone blocking the bile duct and a lot of inflammation in the gallbladder and colon. 

Over the course of the next few days, I was pumped full of morphine and antibiotics to try to control the pain and reduce the inflammation and things seemed to be progressing well until the Tuesday when I had another attack with pain beyond anything I had experienced so far.  On a scale of 1 - 10, I was asked to rate it.  This was a definite 10 but with screaming! I didn't think I was capable of feeling this level of pain and surviving and the thought of meeting my maker was one I welcomed if it would just end the pain and I cried like a child for the grandfather I lost at 8 years of age to come and get me. I was in so much distress the only thing they could do, on doctor’s advice, was give me a dose of morphine, strong enough to knock me out.  I was never as glad in my life for the wonders of modern medicine.

I didn't fare much better over the course of the next 24 hours, the pain worsened, the inflammation was increasing along with infection levels so they finally decided to take it out and so I was prepared for surgery the next day.  Talking to the surgeon afterwards, he remarked that it was a difficult procedure and although it wasn’t the worst gallbladder he had seen, it wasn’t far off it and the stone he removed was about the size of a walnut so it was no wonder I was in so much pain.   Another week in recovery, where those simple acts of eating, sleeping and moving still seemed monumental, gradually, the ability to move and eat improved.  I had been surviving on porridge, soup and custard for the best part of 3 weeks, too afraid to try anything more in case the pain returned and even I could see the weight loss (at least 10lb) confirmed by my sister who remarked when she came to see me, 'God, Aideen, you look terrible!  You're grey and your face has fallen in, all I can see is cheekbones and panda eyes!'  2 weeks in hospital is not good for the health, trying to recover from major surgery with a diet so nutritionally deficient that every day I could feel myself weakening more and more.  I was craving protein and fantasising about scrambled eggs and steak. 

By the second week, sleep deprivation was catching up with me (hospitals are not conducive to good sleep with lights on all night) and cabin fever began to set in.  It felt like I hadn’t been home in months and I longed for a night in the warmth and comfort of my own bed.  I yearned to get outside and feel a breeze or the sun on my skin.  Then, finally, on the Thursday, a week after surgery, I got to go home.

I was never as happy to see Strabane as I was last Thursday evening, I could have kissed the ground and the first thing I ate when I got home was scrambled eggs!  Divine!

So, I’m still on the light diet for this week and introducing foods one at a time.  My range of movement has improved but there is still some way to go and I’ve caught up on my sleep but with the limitations on movement, it isn’t what it was but it was certainly helped by having the pins removed from the wound yesterday.  My energy levels are improving daily but I won’t be walking any long distances for a while yet as I’m still quite weak physically.  I find it amazing that only 3 weeks ago; I could go for a long walk without a care in the world whereas at the moment I wouldn’t have the strength or energy to walk to our local shop. I’ll be off work for a while too; I can’t drive yet and have to take it easy but having endured the worst pain of my life, I have a new found appreciation for life’s simple pleasures.  The joy of a night in the comfort and warmth of my own bed, the absolute pleasure of being able to eat real food again and more importantly, being able to move, even if it is limited, without pain is one I will treasure for some time to come and look forward to getting my full fitness and strength back.

Another day, another battle in the propaganda war against Donald Trump.  I hadn't really been following the Senate Judiciary hearing for the Supreme Court very closely but I was aware there was an allegation of assault made against Trump's nominee and I caught a bit of Christine Blasey Ford's testimony on the news.  Then, of course, there was the usual run of opinion on Facebook.  I got into a disagreement with someone I know about it because she was adamant that from what she had heard and seen, he was guilty.  I said, I didn't like trial by media and pointed out that the man hadn't been charged or convicted of any crime so at this point, and in the eyes of the law, there is supposed to be a presumption of innocence until proven otherwise.  But it was like talking to a wall, laws didn't matter, she just knew he was guilty.  

So, I made it my business over the weekend to watch both testimonies and both rounds of questioning as much as time allowed (which turned out to be several hours of my Sunday, in between trying to watch the Grand Prix!). 

 As someone who, unfortunately, knows only too well the consequences of assault and its aftermath, I have to say from what I watched, Brett Kavanaugh is innocent and Christine Ford's performance, and not a very good performance at that, was insipid, cringe-inducing but more importantly, false.  I thought that when I first saw the snippet on the news before I knew any of the details and now after everything I've read and seen, I'm even more convinced.   

The alleged assault took place 36 years ago when she was 15, and Brett Kavanaugh was 17, but these details may not be true and in earlier reports she alleged it happened in her late teens.  No one among her friends from her teen years could corroborate her memory of a party attended by Mr Kavanaugh.  She couldn't remember the house, and couldn't remember how she got to the party or how she got home afterwards.  The memory of the assault was from a recovered memory (which have been shown to be notoriously unreliable) from 2012 when she was in therapy although, no mention was made of Kavanaugh in her therapy notes, notes too which her lawyers refuse to allow the Supreme Court judiciary to see.  As assaults go, on a scale of 1 - 10, I would class it as a one.  She was, allegedly, groped by a drunken teenage boy, but made it sound like she was about to be gang-raped and/or murdered. These were just some of the holes in her allegations. 

If I hadn't watched the testimonies for myself and had only judged this on media reports, I would have been led to believe that Brett Kavanaugh was a bully and an uncontrollable drunken lout, not a man with years of experience as a lawyer and, as far as I know, an unblemished record as a sitting judge.  While Christine Ford has been portrayed as a paragon of virtue, truth and righteousness.  

I would have described myself as a feminist.  But it seems that within the feminist community now, there is an expectation that any woman making any allegation of assault, sexual or otherwise, should be believed on her word only and without any corroborating evidence.  There was a rape trial here in NI earlier this year involving two NI rugby players.  In that instance, I believed the girl because her testimony rang true with what I know of assault and related behaviours. Nothing about Christine Ford's testimony rang true for me. 

I'm also a leftie and Brett Kavanaugh is as far from me politically, as you could possibly get so I certainly couldn't be accused of bias in that respect.  I believe he is innocent and I haven't seen or heard anything to contradict that belief at this stage, and is not guilty of anything other than being a Republican. 

The bias in the media against Kavanaugh, like his questioning by Democrats, is more to do with the ongoing campaign to unseat Donald Trump from the Whitehouse than any great search for truth or justice.  On the whole, nothing these days is about real truth or justice, it's all a propaganda war to get into power and to use any piece of dirt you can get your hands on, no matter how low you have to go, to try and discredit your opponents.  I feel the Democrats have shot themselves in the foot with this one.  It'll be interesting to see what happens in November's mid terms.

As the Novichok row still rumbles on, a question comes to mind.  Now, the poison was apparently in a perfume bottle and was sprayed on the Skripals door.  If this substance is so lethal, how come the alleged poisoners didn't poison themselves with it.  Was it a windy day?  Try controlling a spray outside even with a light breeze, some of it is bound to get on you somewhere, even a little on the finger pushing down the button.  Something to think about!

And another thing, when Alexander Litvinenko was poisoned, there were pictures of him lying in a hospital bed all over the news but to date, we haven't seen one photograph of either of the Skripals.

Since finishing the degree, I have re-discovered the joy of reading for pleasure again.  It took a few months after finishing to settle down as I kept getting the anxiety 'I should be studying' attacks, then realising that no, I didn't actually have to study anything and could indulge in reading for reading's sake.

I've got through several tomes and a few stand out in the memory, Jon Krakauer's, Into Thin Air, for one.  You may have seen the film that was based on the book, Everest, starring among others, Jake Gyllenhaal.  I had read Jon Krakauer's, Into the Wild, a few years ago, which was also made into a film and I really enjoyed it.  I could also certainly identify with Christopher McCandless's wish to escape from the drudgery of life and go live in the wild, but climbing Everest is something that in a million years, I would never have a desire to do.  Even if I had ever entertained the notion, this book would have killed it off forever.  The pain, the suffering, why would anyone want to put themselves through it?  Cerebral oedema's, pulmonary oedema's, it's beyond me, or maybe I've just suffered enough!  

Another stand out, is Waris Dirie's, Desert Flower.  Waris was a desert nomad from Somalia who went through female-genital mutilation at 5 years of age.  She ran away as a teenager to escape an arranged marriage to an old man and ended up becoming a model in London, and hung out with people like Naomi Campbell and Iman, David Bowie's wife.  It's amazing how she came through it all and how it all happened. Definitely, worth a read.

Other notables in the biographical genre are Tom Michell's The Penguin Lessons, a heart-warming tale of a man and a penguin; Carol Drinkwater's The Olive Farm, and that other famous tale of life in France, Peter Mayle's, A Year in Provence, both of which had me dreaming of upping sticks and moving!

On the fiction front, I enjoyed Eleanor Oliphant is Completely Fine by Gail Honeyman, and The Savage Garden by Mark Mills.  I got the Mark Mills book in a local charity shop, and it still had its original receipt in it.  It was bought in Borders Books, Music and Cafe, Briggate, in Leeds in August 2007.  It's interesting to see how it has travelled since it was first purchased.  I wonder who the original buyer was!

Another gem I've had sitting on the shelf for a while, and finally got around to reading, was Irving Wallace's The Seven Minutes.  It was given to me a few years ago by a friend.  It was originally published in 1969 and it does show its age in parts, but on the whole a good read and quite a long one too, at over 500 pages.

I read mostly biography and one of the most heart-breaking, and frustrating, was When Breath Becomes Air by Paul Kalanithi.  Paul was a brilliant, highly-driven doctor and this is what made it quite a frustrating read.  He was diagnosed with lung cancer and I just wished he had stayed off work longer and given himself time to recover but he didn't.  Maybe the outcome would have been the same but then again, maybe not.  

So, there’s a few recommendations, I'm now on Philippa Gregory's, The White Queen.  I'm not a fan of the historical novel, it was lent to me by a friend but I’ll give it a go and it isn’t too bad so far.  I still have many more to get through but with the telly being so bad at present, at least books offer a respite from 3^rd rate reality shows and endless cooking.

So, Boris (the buffoon?) has upset many with his comments on burkas.  I managed to catch a bit of the debate on the Jeremy Vine show the other day; completely by accident, I might add, as I actively avoid news and talk shows as much as possible but I'd left the radio on while I was out doing a bit of gardening and had come back in for some lunch.  Of course, many were getting very self-righteous and demanding he apologise, but it seemed that equally as many were in support with the media, as ever, getting hysterical and doing its best to whip up a frenzy.  I'm not a fan of Boris Johnson and although we were on the same side in the Brexit referendum, he would definitely not be a natural ally.  I would, however, be a huge fan of his mother’s art and if you ever get the chance to go see it, then I would highly recommend it.  Her name is Charlotte Johnson, for anyone who’s interested.

On the whole burka debate, I have to confess having had similar thoughts myself on the whole, head to toe in black, garb but it wasn't letter boxes that came to mind. I remember the first time I saw a picture of a fully veiled woman, I was immediately reminded of a show I watched when I was young, Bentine Time, with the inimitable, Michael Bentine.  Now, I don't remember many details but I do remember he used to do these little puppet shows and there was one with spies or some such, and they were all in black with only their noses visible and that was the first thought that popped in to my head when I saw the picture.  Is that racism or Islamaphobia? I don't think so, it's not racism because Islam is not a race.  Islamaphobia? Hardly, it’s just a thought, my mind making a connection between two things that had similarities.  I get the same thing here when the Orange Order or any other group starts on about marching and their right to march.  The first thing that pops into my head is Barney the Dinosaur, my daughter was a big fan when she was young, saying march, march, march!  Maybe it’s just my natural instinct to draw comparisons between the absurd, the farcical and the comic, I’ll leave you to decide which is which.

This whole debate centres around what Muslim women wear and their right to choose and this is the problem I have with the burka.  In many cases, it is not a choice, it is an imposition, a cultural imposition in a patriarchal society dressed up as the ‘will of God’.  Now, there are those who say they choose to wear the niqab, hijab or burka as a symbol of their faith and they should have the right to do so, but I am not convinced.  I do, however, understand the mentality of women who defend that decision.  I remember back in the worst of the troubles when the British government took up a stance against all things Irish Republican and banned Gerry Adams from speaking on air.  Because I was brought up as an Irish Catholic and this was against 'our side', then you supported them even when it wasn't doing you or anybody else any favours.  But since I've never been convinced of any particular group's right to martyrdom or sainthood, especially when your so-called 'saviours' are the very people keeping your community down and subjecting them to terror and thuggery, as you grow up you question these ‘loyalties’ more and begin to see through the propaganda and brainwashing that allows the ‘believers’ to be exploited by others.

As for the ‘religious freedom’ side of this debate, I have absolutely no sympathy.  You are free to believe in whatever God you wish but it should be a private matter between you and the God you choose, had imposed upon you or were brainwashed into believing in.  Because the reality is, very few people ever actually choose their religion, it was usually chosen or imposed on them by their parents and/or the society they grew up in.  How many of us would believe in the religion we were brought up in, if we had never been told about Jesus or Mohamed or Buddha or any of them?  Would you even have a belief in a God if you had been left to decide for yourself purely on your own experience and if you did, what form would your ‘God’ take?

As to the question of burkas, what logic is there in an all-powerful, all-knowing being, who allegedly created and controls the entire universe, concerning itself with what a few women wear here on Earth? If this powerful, all-knowing deity made everything then, ‘it’ made women too, and if you truly believed in your God’s ‘greatness’, then how could a woman be a lesser thing than a man?  Surely, this God’s ‘creations’ would all have equal value; for how could something created by a ‘God’ be less than perfect?   And I’m absolutely certain an omnipotent, omniscient deity does not need some uptight, over-zealous patriarch acting on ‘its’ behalf and handing out diktats on clothing, cutting off anyone's genitalia or fighting its battles either.

As to women in burkas looking like bank robbers, I have to disagree with Boris on this one.  Bank robbers these days are more apt to look like Boris.  The traditional idea of a bank robber as someone who goes in and steals the bank’s money, sorry, our money, has actually reversed.  Now, the robbers are the bankers, gambling and losing our money and then robbing the public purse (with the complicity of the Government) to cover their debts with our money again!!!  Funny, I don’t hear the media getting too hysterical over that one!

Nellie the Elephant packed her trunk and said goodbye to the circus, off she went with a Trumpety-trump! Trump, trump, trump!  

Ah, more innocent times...when trump was the sound elephants made as they packed up and marched off into the sunset but which has now taken on a whole different connotation…business man, big towers, golf courses, fascist, bigot, misogynist…to name but a few.  And how they turned out in their masses to protest the strange hairy one from across the pond...demonstrating to the world how not like Trump they are, they're liberal, open-minded, welcoming to all immigrants (at least until they show up on their doorstep!) and what better way to demonstrate this than to get out and let the 'leader of the free world' know he wasn't welcome here!  

Well, I suppose they had to find something else to do this year with Glastonbury not being on.  They even had a big one in Belfast too!  The self-righteous boarded buses, whole families heading for a day out to demonstrate their liberal principles and let that 'fascist Trump’ know he wasn't welcome here either.  I know because their posts were all over Facebook…and what a story they'll have to tell the grand-children in years to come when they ask, 'What did you do grandad when Donald Trump came to Britain?  They will be able to hold their heads high and say, 'Yes, I was there - demonstrating!'  

Well, it was news to me that fascists weren't welcome here because I thought they had been running this place for years!  Well, it used to be the Catholic Church (not too liberal and open-minded there, as far as memory serves) then we had the Orange Order (again not renowned for their liberal ideas and open-mindedness), and not forgetting the military arm of the British government who were stomping around here for many years too.  Then, of course, we had our own home-grown fascists who have been as busy as little beavers these last few weeks, building bonfires and terrorising their own communities, just like those little fascists on the other side who have been out rioting and burning vehicles for the last week too.

But, fair play to the people of the Bogside in Derry, they turned out on Friday night to tell those same little fascists, that the people were sick to death of them and sick of their communities being held to ransom and being terrorised.   Of course, this demonstration didn't get the 1000's who went to Belfast to protest against ‘The Donald'.  No, all they got was a few hundred friends and neighbours who have suffered years of oppression under these petty thugs and bullies.  And the difference between the people in the Bogside, and those in Belfast?  Well, it’s that old chestnut again, working class vs middle class.  And it is just much more fashionable to jump on the bandwagon that doesn't really make any demands and which gets more publicity, like demonstrating against Donald Trump, than to confront the fascists in our midst.

But the thing is, the election of Donald Trump and the events in the Bogside are branches of the same tree and what they both have in common is the working-classes.  The working-classes in America have suffered job losses and have been ignored by the government and the corporate elite for years.  They have also been made to pay disproportionally for the flagrant abuse of money and power that caused the banking crash in 2008, just like here and in Britain.  But no one bothered to listen, well, it’s only the working-classes, society is changing, work is changing and they just have to get used to it… at least that’s what they were told.  Then, along came The Donald, promising the working classes jobs again, feeding into their hopes and dreams: he was listening to them, he knew they had been screwed over by the corporations and the government, he was going to get their jobs back, give them back their self-respect, he was on their side, he was on the side of the little guy, the ordinary working man, he would be their hero!  He would make America GREAT AGAIN!  So, they voted for him, because they had nothing left to lose, having already lost their jobs, their self-respect and any hope for the future.

Donald Trump’s supporters have been dismissed as bigots and racists, just like the Brexit voters here, because it’s a lot easier to dismiss someone than to sit and genuinely listen to them or address the issues that affect them.  Easier to sneer at a ‘bigoted’ working-class man and jump on a bandwagon that feeds into the ego and lets you congratulate yourself on your liberal, open-minded principles than to open your ears and listen to those on the bottom or actually do something about it. 

When the demonstrations end, everyone will go home feeling good about themselves, safe in the knowledge that they did their bit for freedom and democracy.  What will it achieve?  Donald Trump will go back to the US and will still be the president.  Whether he will turn out to be a working-class hero or just another manipulator in a suit, has yet to been fully decided but I suspect the latter considering his actions so far.  How the working classes will react if/when it turns out they have been lied to and screwed over again, is anybody’s guess, but history has a few examples, France in 1789 and Russia in 1917.

The working-classes have delivered a few shocks to the liberal elite in recent years both here and in the US but they’re still not being listened to. The demonstrations against Donald Trump ignore the issues that led to his election, just like here in the Brexit vote, a vote the liberal elite are still trying to reverse.  So, keep ignoring those on the bottom, keep feeding your middle-class liberal ego, keep reading the Guardian and sneering down your nose at Corbyn and his supporters, and keep believing the narrative created and promoted in the media that keeps dismissing those ‘lower-class bigots’ and allowing you feel so smug and self-righteous, and you may just have a completely different story to tell your grand-children when they ask, ‘What happened after the demonstration, grandad?’ 

Well, I re-joined the ranks of the gainfully employed a few weeks back and between learning the new job and the allotment, there has hardly been a spare moment.  I'm now doing TECH SUPPORT!!!...that's what I get for watching Vanilla Sky all those times...and of course, the minute you get a job everyone wants you.  I had just about given up on the chance of anything like a 'career' and along with 'world domination' and the chance of meeting a 'mature' male in Ireland, had consigned all such ambitions to the dustbin of maybe, probably not and yeah, right!  But lo and behold, I have now been offered 5 different opportunities in the last few weeks and will probably opt for the public sector one which although is initially only for a year, holds out the chance for progression and also offers the best pay and conditions.

Part of my problem with 'careers', is that any time I found a job I liked, it never lasted for one reason or another.  I worked mostly in factories, everything from machinist to credit control, and administration of one kind or another, but all those factories closed as the owners moved the work abroad to second world, more exploitable economies.  The paradox in this, as I often pointed out, is that although those jobs are gone, we're still expected to support a first world economy by buying the stuff we used to make here.  Then being an old 'commie' at heart, I could never sum up the ambition needed to manipulate and wheedle my way around the bosses in the drive to succeed because as someone once pointed out, even if you win the rat race, you're still a rat!  

So, part of me is now settling, settling for something close to home, not too stressful and reasonably paid which with a bit of luck will see me through now to retirement and which, more importantly, gives me time to pursue the things I really want to do like writing, my allotment, painting, knitting and hopefully a bit of acting again, come September.  

I was supposed to be getting some money from Universal Credit today and I have received the princely sum of £29.  I stopped working on 30th March or rather the job ended, and because I received a week’s salary and a few days holiday pay the following week, I am only entitled to a grand total of £59 for this month, paid in 2 instalments of £29 today and £30 in a fortnight's time.  I have been living off that last salary payment for the last month, it doesn't even matter that I had to pay a week’s rent out of it or that I had other bills to cover as well, it was received in my claim time so it counts.  Strangely enough, if I had put in my UC claim the day after, it wouldn't have counted and I would have received more.  So, I have £59 to live on for the next month and I would like to take this opportunity to thank all you Tory voters for helping to screw over not only me but the rest of the working classes, especially if you are working-class or from a working class background, you deserve special attention, you bunch of deluded snobs!

I was looking at a post on Facebook earlier today from Jo Brand on the crisis in the NHS.  The NHS is being asset-stripped by the Tories and their friends and has been for many years going right back to the New Labour Tories and the bank crash of 2008 or rather the 'engineered financial crisis' (a blog for another day).  This 'crisis' has been used as the excuse to dismantle the public sector and drive the poor and working-class into penury, low-waged unstable work and 3rd rate services.  Someone on the post asked why the people of Britain were allowing this to happen and I replied - because the smug middle-classes turned their noses up to the working classes while they strived to join the upper classes. Because that is what happened.  

The middle-classes turned their faces away when the pits were closed down and the miners thrown out of work.  They didn't bother to look either when the factories were closed and more working-class jobs disappeared offshore.  Britain was changing, we were told, from an industrial economy to a service economy, ‘it was the way of the world, there was ‘nothing you could do’ and the middle-classes bought it and stayed silent because it was only working-class jobs which were changing and that was of no interest to them. 

When council housing was sold off, many of those former working-class bought cheap and then sold out to private landlords as they social-climbed their way to smug middle-classdom, convinced of their new superiority.  No-one bothered to consider the long term view or how working-class communities would be affected, just grabbed the money and ran.  Now, most of that housing stock is in the hands of private landlords who charge exorbitant rents for what are oftentimes, badly maintained properties.  Those houses are easily identified in working-class areas; they're usually the most neglected and run-down.  This is not just an English problem, here in NI where they railed for so long against the terrible actions and legacy of English landlords and how they treated the Irish (there are few around here who couldn't tell you the story of the Glenveigh evictions) they have shown that the smug middle-class Irish are every bit as avaricious and socially ambitious as their English counterparts.  The rent on the council house I live in which is a standard 3 bed, is up to 80% more expensive under private landlords who are all local.  Can't blame the 'foreigners' for that one!

Our middle-class business people are also every bit as bad as the Victorian English mill owners or rich Saudi's in how they treat their staff.  Several locally-owned businesses will sack you if you try to join a union or start one in their factory.  They won't tell you that, of course, they'll make it about something else and when you start work you can be on probation for up to a year so they can just get rid of you without having to give any explanation.  They don't profit share or pay very well either, minimum wages as much as possible.  At least, people now get a minimum wage, one of our local companies used to pay £1 an hour before the minimum wage was introduced and have threatened to get rid of all their older workers if the living wage is made compulsory.

Class division is just one of the reasons why 'they' get away with it because the elites with the help of a complicit media and the socially deluded, keep us divided against each other whether it's by race, skin-colour, religion, ethnic back-ground, national identity or any other item they can find; to keep us distracted and afraid.  Then, while we're being distracted with stories of migrants getting money and jobs and houses, or scare stories around religious fanatics or other cultures, they can just keep on screwing us over because there is just so much to distract us with; celebrities, royal weddings, terrorists, celebrities, Putin, royalty, war, celebrities, Harry & Meaghan, more celebrities...

Meanwhile, down here in the working classes, the vacuum created by governments who have abdicated their political and social responsibility, combined with the complicit apathy and actions of the middle-classes, has been filled with greedy landlords, unstable employment, not to mention the drugs and gangs, the result of which is killing off the young and not just on the streets of London. 

But now the middle-classes are starting to realise they have been screwed over too and the chances of their children being able to buy a home or having a well-paid steady job have disappeared into the ether. Today's proposal to give all 25 year old's £10,000 to help them on to the property ladder (but is really to stop them getting angry about how shit their prospects are and possibly start a revolution) is another sticking plaster on a cancerous tumour.  If they were lucky enough to have even gone to university that would hardly cover their student loans!  Realistically, a Tory government is never going to hand £10,000 to working-class children.

I just bet Janet is middle-class (See Universal Credit 1).  As for Alex and his Universal Credit, maybe Alex needs the broadband to look for work because most jobs are online these days and if his local library has been closed because of 'austerity' he can't access those jobs.  Maybe the fuel is petrol or diesel for his car so he can travel to interviews, not everywhere is accessible by public transport or maybe he just needs transport because he has young children.

I am debating keeping my broadband, it's £50 a month, I can just about manage it this month but if I'm not back in work before the end of May, it'll have to go.  I was lucky, I thought I would be on UC for a while and friends had warned me I could be without money for 6 weeks so I had set some money by just in case.  Good job I did, or I would be up shit creek without the proverbial paddle.

But as long as there are people with the same attitude as the Janet's of this world nothing will change.  Those who look down their noses at the working-classes and people on benefits are just luckier, not better, luckier.  Not everyone is born into loving, caring homes, not everyone is lucky or smart enough for University, not everyone has the advantage of good physical and mental health.  It doesn't mean that because they didn't have those things that they should be treated as something less or that their lives should exist on the bare essentials and nothing else.  Life is precarious, we all hang together by threads, and no-one knows what the next minute, hour or week may bring.  It can be different and it can be better for everyone but there has to be a will to make it happen. But as long as we allow ourselves to be divided by religion, culture, money or social status then nothing will change.  But history has shown us that certain conditions drive change, when those on the bottom reach the end of their tether and start a revolution or the middle-classes experience a shift in social consciousness, then change does happen, let's hope we don't have much longer to wait for it.

I had a lovely weekend in Gormanston, Co Meath at an artist's training day.  It was through Children in Crossfire and we are hoping to have a 2 day residential later in the year, to do more work and maybe get some projects started.  I met some great people and it was like the UN, we had people from Colombia, Mexico, Ghana, Moldova and Zambia to name but a few.  

There were some great conversations about activism through art, and aid programmes, and the seeds of some ideas have certainly fallen on fertile ground.  I had fallen out of the acting loop for a few years but I'm inspired now to get back to some serious writing and acting and maybe get a play written.  I've the bones of several but need to start getting some flesh on them!  

Many of the other artists told stories about things they had been involved in and are going to send on some links for opportunities to work abroad and possible funding.  I'm seriously re-thinking my future at the moment, I've several job interviews this week but honestly, I really don't want to go back to working in an office although I'm probably going to have to for a while or at least until I decide what to do or get the opportunity to try something else!

One of the things that came up in a conversation is how Western 'aid' can end up causing more problems than it solves.  One of the women told me how the Mexican fishing industry was destroyed by Greenpeace.  When the Mexican fishermen caught tuna, sometimes dolphins got caught up in their nets so Greenpeace came out with a campaign against the nets they used and the fishing and canning industry that existed along Mexico's coast was effectively destroyed, allowing US companies a free run to takeover.  

One of the guys from Africa also questioned African aid and why despite money being received for many years, nothing had changed and the basic problems remained.  We were also given a booklet outlining the UN's sustainable development goals or SDG's which they launched in 2015.  There are 17 of them covering work, inequality, poverty and the environment and while it's important to have a target to aim for, they are based on the West's idea of how people should live and are industrial and capitalist in outlook. Not everyone wants to live like that, I live under this system and I don't like it or want to live that way and where does that leave tribal societies like the Masai?  Now, I'm all for a fair day's pay, for a fair days work but how does trying to create sustainable development and clean energy, work alongside economic growth or the idea of 'sustainable industrialisation'?  

They certainly have some admirable ideas, wanting to end poverty and hunger, and providing quality education for all.  But, as I was reading through them, I thought, these things are all achievable and could be done tomorrow but the same problem prevents it happening, banking and corporate greed with the elite creaming everything for themselves.  So, until the corporations are brought under control, and war for profit is ended, then these problems will persist and will never be resolved. 

Government, the world over, really needs to grow a pair and start taking on the military/industrial/corporate complex and the mega-rich.  Money should either be re-distributed or gotten rid of altogether, corporations should be abolished or at least, limited in their size and a very tight hold kept on their activities.  Because without some real action from government, the poverty, inequality and war will continue and all the aid programmes will do, no matter how well-intentioned, is like sticking a plaster on a cancer patient.

Another day, another load of job applications, why can we not just have one application form for all?  A standard form with qualifications, work experience and personal details? The Health Service here has a website where you just fill in your details and it is stored so it can be sent with every application instead of having to fill out the same form over and over again.  I suggested this to one of our local colleges, as I have filled out the same 12 page application form many times, and been rejected many times too, because there is nothing as depressing as spending hours filling in these bloody forms (one I filled in had 17 pages) and what do you get back in return, a 2 line email saying thanks but no thanks!

I do have a few interviews lined up next week so hopefully something might turn up soon.

I had a few nights out last week, I went to see the renowned flamenco guitarist, Eduardo Nieblo in the Balor Theatre, a great night was had by all!  He is touring at the moment and is in Chichester in June and Colchester in July, definitely worth checking out.  I had to fill in a(nother) form for a draw to win a signed copy of one of his CD's and I got an email yesterday to say I had won!  That's my second win this week, I had Bless the Wings each way in the National on Saturday too.  I only went for it because I had turned over the telly on Friday night and caught the end of the last episode of The Handmaid's Tale on RTE, where Aunt Lydia was telling the girls to take off their wings before the stoning of Janine.  They say things come in 3's, must do the lotto too!

I was in the Balor again the night after Eduardo for a Tedx Talk on the subject of Borders.  Not just geographical borders but the physical, emotional and psychological borders we may have.  There was a great variety of speakers, covering subjects from Where do Humpback whales in Ireland come from by Simon Berrow, to Achieving Goals without Gender Roles by Katie McGloin, but the best on the night for me was comedian Paddy Cullivan who wants to do a Donald Trump in Donegal and build a wall!  I'm not sure if it's up on the Ted site yet but keep a eye out for it, it's definitely worth a look.

Ah well, back to the application forms!  

I have now joined the ranks of the gainfully unemployed and since I've been job hunting since October with no luck, I reckon I'm going to be here for a while, not that I mind today with the blue sky and sunshine!  Actually, not that I'll mind any day, rain or shine, the less tax the government get off me, the better.  Why should I worry when billionaires get away tax free and get their houses re-decorated at our expense.  So, I'm going to enjoy my break for as long as it lasts and make the most of my free time, between writing, gardening, painting, knitting and dog-walking, I'll easily fill the days, and job-hunting too, of course!

Took the young 'un to see Peter Rabbit over Easter, it seemed to be getting favourable reviews (among the now ex-work colleagues) so thought I would check it out.  Well, this was one rabbit I'd happily take a shotgun to and bake in a pie!  Beatrix Potter must be spinning in her grave!  I quite like rabbits, usually, and have several movies starring rabbits, Watership Down, Who Framed Roger Rabbit and even Harvey, and I don't even mind a smart-mouthed rabbit, Bugs Bunny pulls it off every time but a smart mouth and Beatrix Potter? Doesn't work for me and certainly didn't work here. 

The slapstick was enjoyed by some of the children but I found the whole thing disturbing, wiring door handles to give electric shocks, in a child's film??  Wait til little Johnny tries that one at home!  Voiced by James Corden, I understand now why he is the target of some vitriol but I don't suppose I can blame him, he didn't write the script but he did take part, so actually, I will blame him along with whoever else participated in bringing this tripe to the big screen!

Anyway, I've been laid up with a bit of a dose for a couple of days, actually since that movie now that I think about it.  Maybe it's shock...but thankfully I've been up and about a bit today and got some work done in the garden this morning.  And my favourite Bowie tune has just come on the radio...Drive in Saturday...compensation from the universe for enduring Peter fecking Rabbit!  I made the mistake of having popcorn too. I don't normally eat anything at the cinema, maybe a cup of tea or coffee but thought I would have popcorn for a change...and I have paid for it since, it is working its way through my digestive system like concrete, actually concrete might have been easier to digest.  I've been on a diet of porridge and peppermint tea since, and now that I've had to sign up for Universal Credit that will probably be my diet for the foreseeable future or at least until I get back into the rat race!

The gods must be in my favour today, another favourite tune of mine has come on, I Can See Clearly Now...the pain of that crap movie has gone!  I wish...

But getting back to the subject of work, my brother retires this year, he's getting away early and several others I know have also gotten early retirement.  Of course, they all work/worked in the public sector.  I've always worked in the private sector which means I'm going to be working for many more years to come, well, it will do once I get another job, but the thing is, my taxes pay for the wages of the public sector and they all get to retire after 25-30 years service but I'm going to have to keep going until I'm 68, which will probably be 70 if the Tories get in again!  So, why do I have be the Duracell bunny and keep going longer?  Why can I not retire when I have racked up 30/35 years of work or a least cut back to a 4 day/30hour week?   A friend recently remarked that we should have paid into a pension scheme sooner then we could retire now.  Which is a lovely idea, until I pointed out that we never earned enough to pay into a pension, I barely earned enough to cover the bills!

The problem with work now, is that I'm just too old, ok I'm only in my 50's but I'm probably fitter and healthier than ever, at least I will be once I get rid of this dose and get the concrete digested, but that is the reality I have to face.  I've been looking for a job for 5 months and in that time I've had 3 interviews which came to nothing, although I've been told I'm next on the list for 2 of them.  So, in the meantime, I may enjoy being a lady of leisure and get on with my writing, painting gardening etc. I have to say, one of the highlights of this week was the joy of turning off the alarm not knowing when it may be needed again.  With a bit of luck, never!

'Kill the wabbit! kill the wabbit!' 

Ah, there you are Elmer, I've been looking for you, I have a little job you might be interested in...involves a rabbit...no, not Bugs but I think you'll enjoy it all the same, is that shotgun loaded?  Good...there's this rabbit called Peter...irritating little shit...

Another one from the art class, just a practice copy, oil on canvas.