“People are just as wonderful as sunsets if you let them be. When I look at a sunset, I don't find myself saying, "Soften the orange a bit on the right hand corner." I don't try to control a sunset. I watch with awe as it unfolds.” (Carl Rogers)

Saturday, 10 October 2015

Reasons to be Cheerful (Part Thirty Seven)

Da-Vid-Cam-Er-On, Fuck Off Back To Eton! 

Spent Sunday shouting at wrongness and mean and despicable tory cunts in Manchester - in travelling companionship and solidarity with the very welcoming Doncaster People's Assembly. I proudly waved a red flag the whole afternoon and even more proudly and passionately chanted my most favourite and succinct political slogan: Da-Vid-Cam-Er-On, Fuck Off Back To Eton!

I enjoyed all the obvious and not so obvious placards and pig references, although I often feel that some of them are pig-ist. I like pigs.

Overall, though, it's been a rather tough week - tougher for dad than for me, but tough enough for me, too! Dementia is a cunt of a thing, it's so awful but then it's life, too, somehow. Live. Die. Suffer. Die. Live. Cum. Existenz. Poor old thing that he is, night terrors visiting, Black Shades of Horror and Hopelessness and me just helpless in the face of it. And he remembers nothing next day and just naps to catch up, which I don't. So, it's fucking tiring, like really really tiring. Anyway, sufficent of a moan for the now - and we ended up somewhere positive by week's end with a new drug to try, which allows us at least hope once more!


In the middle of all of this, what felt like a strange trip to Brum, where I felt like doing nothing very much - although the supervision was invigorating and enjoyable. I most enjoyed the train journey back, where I felt more like myself again, probably after a night's sleep, I guess. So, I had a mildly drunk afternoon's travelling and also met Song from China on the train, coming to Grimsby to work in a takeaway.

And we signed up for our 'incorporation', which means that our social enterprise moves a step closer to a living, breathing thing...

Some CAB?
An interesting picture I took at the end of the rally in Manchester. I've been pondering on policepeople, especially due to the many ACAB references I've seen or noticed of late. This is a slogan that's been around for years, I've even seen it tattooed on people's knuckles. And it's always made me kind of uncomfortable. I'm generally against grouping individual people together and dismissing them as a wholesale batch. It means 'All coppers are bastards'. Are they? All of them? 'I've met some nice ones' might go the refrain. I have. And they are certainly welcome if you're in trouble. However, the logic of their job role is really of defenders of the status quo and - ultimately - every single one of them, yes, the nice ones, too, can be called on to bash in the heads of people who don't agree with the status quo. I will never forget the political policing during the miner's strike, bastard coppers waving fat pay packets at hungry working people standing up for their rights - and also bashing their heads in. And here's some of them ready to commit violence for their tory paymasters...

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