top of page
  • iaindryden1

Strawberries & Cockroaches


Every so often a carton sums up a situation better than words and this week I spotted a fantastic one in The Times. It particularly resonated because the day before I’d been talking to a bright young woman who travels the world for work and constantly blushes when Brexit is mentioned. “People laugh at our politicians and I feel ashamed to be British!”

Seven horsemen facing backwards as their steeds gallop forwards, each points a loaded pistol at their rivals, but for one who sits alone, bemused; that’s Rory Stuart, one of the few British politicians making sense at the moment and who dislikes spin. Central stage brandishing two pistols and looking like a boorish fool, our arch-clown Boris Johnson is suitably blinded by the glamour of his Stetson. The banner beneath reads-: “God knows where they’re leading us (theydon’t)!”

The three year Brexit fiasco has come to this. Posturing politicians who care naught of the country they are ruining so they can gain personal power. Britain is plunging into the dark due to the idiots who endlessly discuss nothing in what was once referred as the mother of democracies, a system concretised in the year 1215 in Runnymede, not far from London.

It makes you wonder about democracy.

The great issues affecting the world today are ignored and so they will come to dominate our lives dramatically in the next decade. Naturally, Boris, Trump and their ilk don’t care. What has humanity learnt in the past eight thousand years when the oldest stone structures were built?

“Ha,” some would retort, “to grow strawberries which last longer on supermarket shelves.”

To end on a positive note, this year Britain will produce more energy from renewable resources than from fossil fuels. Maybe there is hope for the few of us who will survive amongst the booming cockroach civilisations.

#Democracy #borisjohnson #trump #civilisation #extinctionrevolution #Globalwarming #brexit

26 views0 comments

Recent Posts

See All

Yesterday I noticed I’m different. It’s quite startling. A new person has entered my mind; it happened  slowly, imperceptibly, a stealthy invasion of my privacy. The old cheerfully positive personalit

The gardens at Killerton House never fail to lift my soul. It’s not just the land falling in waves of trees cut into by sweeping lawns bordered by an array of stunning flowers, nor that arboretum capp

bottom of page