As Dame Vera Lynn departs this life, she takes with her all the qualities so sadly lacking in the world today: pride, dignity, courage, elegance … There are few left, now, who embody that era when Britain was Great. A national treasure, she was synonymous with WWII and known, throughout the world, as the Forces’ sweetheart. More than anything, she engendered hope; the voice of calm, her presence came with the belief that everything was going to be alright. What happens now?
As a nation, we cling to these WWII heroes; those who lived through unimaginable fear and conflict, digging deep to find the courage and the bravery to confront the enemy, as was expected of them. That’s the thing. There was no question, then. The country was united against its foe and each was desperate to play his/her part. I don’t believe that spirit exists anymore. Lost in a world of ego and greed, there is isolation where once there was family and community; infighting where once there was loyalty to the common cause. The grandparents who lived through these days are slipping away but, synonymous with their memory, is an acknowledgement of the great pride and respect of which they are, or were deserving. So it is that Captain Tom became our present day symbol of hope and, without question, he touched the hearts of each and every one of us, representing our own. As for Dame Vera, her star shall never diminish. Aged 103, somehow fittingly, she lived long enough to commemorate the 75th Anniversary of VE Day, on the 8th May just passed, and to, once more, take her place alongside her beloved ‘boys’. These may be unprecedented times but, to compare them to those of WWII is, to my mind, unthinkable. We are not worthy. Dame Vera embodied the very essence of that which once made Britain Great and her passing all but brings down the final curtain on an era which will forever be remembered for her like. Ironically, it is us who, now, need luck as we wave her goodbye …
As though pathetic fallacy, the weather is overcast and grey; the sun a distant memory. It is hard to lift a mood heavy with reflection in a world which has lost its way. All around there is anger and conflict; fear and disillusionment. There is nothing for it but to take one day at a time. My posts, of late, have been difficult as I write my thoughts and opinions on the abounding torment. Funnily enough, I notice that the more controversial the subject, the fewer ‘likes’ I receive. Of course, it may be that those who read it do not agree with those thoughts and opinions and that is absolutely fine. Sadly, though, I suspect, for some, it is that they are afraid be seen to support a voice outwith the crowd. Another indictment of life today.
Methinks the mood is in dire need of being lifted; however, venturing into town for supplies, earlier, did nothing to help. Queueing, I hate but to, then, be waved into the supermarket like cattle only to follow arrows up and down the aisles … I cannot help but feel I am an extra in Stepford Wives! As I realise I have forgotten something and, unwittingly, turn around, there are androids in masks, eyes darting with fear, all but climbing the shelves as I move back up said aisle – the wrong way! What was I saying about WWII and not being worthy? Where is that word ‘perspective’ when one needs it? Oh, silly me! It’s consigned to the dictionary which is all but consigned to history – which is all but consigned to the bin!
Yes, the Trish-Trash of old! Just checking my jottings and the subject of hairdressers is there. Not sure about Scotland (note to self: refrain from comment about Nicola’s helmet, sorry, hair!) but those in England are due to re-open on 4thJuly. That said, they are sworn to silence! Not quite but, apparently, it is advised that there should be no small talk and any consultation as to how to approach the unruly mop should take place online, prior to the appointment, or in the mirror. Well, that’s not going to happen, is it? Actually, judging by those in masks climbing the shelves at the sight of an oncoming human in Tesco, I may be wrong. Oh, help. Could it be that I shall never get to grips with this world which has gone stark raving mad? A world which functions on the premise that intelligent life is a thing of the past? Hello! We are still here! We didn’t take the pills! We are not programmed to receive but, rather, capable of using our brains …
Deaf ears? Perhaps another gin … I have another note to impart regarding the purchase of a book on Amazon. A supporter of the Born Free ethos since nappies, I was delighted at the interest of an old friend and decided I would send her some books she might like. No problem – except there was! Keying in the title, granted I may be visually challenged but the price came up as £780 New. Seriously?! One can charge that much for a book – and a paperback to boot? Try another title … £180! Talk about a stark reminder of my age! Yes, these books may be out of print but are they sufficiently rare to warrant a price in the region of hundreds of pounds? Must look up the filming locations for future episodes of the Antiques Road Show. Now, the value of your ancient book, which you bought for two shillings and sixpence when you were six, is … priceless!
Right, time to go. So much easier writing the fun stuff! Let me end with a quote from last night which made us smile. Becca and I getting the ice for our gins and tonic …
‘Do you remember the days when we had an American fridge with an ice maker? How can we have sunk so low?!’
This is Trish, signing off.
