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Hoses of the Holy in the Parallel Universe

May 23, 2005

On a bright May morning in the middle of June

Sounds like a folk song title yes? And strangely, May mornings did occur in the middle of June until the calendar was corrected about 200 years ago.

I love this time of year: the countryside has turned green finally, and the hedgerows are stardusted with the blossom of Cow-parsley and Hawthorn (which was often known as "May" by the way).

It was once reckoned that Hawthorn blossom has the scent of an aroused woman. Probably connected too with spring and fertility rites. Because that's how superstition and folklore work.

But nature doesn't reflect what is going on in our lives like in some huge Thomas Hardy novel.

This weekend after I'd cleaned the house downstairs (notice that I am not over-ambitious enough to use the word tidied) one of the kids tipped a binliner of rubbish over at the bottom of the stairs.

In amongst the rubbish I found a forged letter from one of the kids to their games teacher excusing them from PE due to continued bronchitis. Interesting. I lectured them along the lines of it being wrong to use lies and cheating to get what you want. I doubt I convinced them: that's pretty much exactly what most people do to get what they want.

Also, I saw on the news an interview with a former Conservative party leader. He was analysing the reasons for their failure in the recent elections and what they need to do to achieve success. I have to say I agreed with what he was saying.

His opinion was that, pretty much, his party has the policies stitched and that they are offering what most people actually want: lower taxes, limited immigration, stronger law and order. All the traditional conservative values in other words.

But he said the problem that Conservatives have is that voting for them gives people a bad conscience: it makes them feel selfish.

That's exactly right, isn't it? Our society is full of selfishness, buried under a carpet of fooling our own consciences. We live in a society of rotten woodwork under a fresh coat of paint; of bitter pills with a sugar coating; of cardboard fast-food contained in beautiful packaging; of buggy computer software running under a flashy GUI interface; of useless gadgets that allow you to play catchy ringtones; of perfectly formed fruit and veg supplied via a mechanism that requires exploitation of immigrant workers.

It's all curtains and no furniture in other words.

1 Comments:

  • We went for a walk in the Stowe landscape gardens at the weekend (got soaked), and the smell of the Hawthorne blossom took me straight back to my childhood in a Proustian rush. I grew up in Dumpstable, with the Blows Downs behind our house - over the railway tracks and you were there. And the scent of Hawthorne took me there.

    By Blogger bot37363838, at 5:43 am  

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