Good grief!  I am all Piers Morgan-ed out!  The thing is – apart from the fact that he is on screen every night on TalkTV – I have been planning to send him some of my material for a while.  Piers Morgan, Uncensored.  Trish-Trash, A Voice Outwith the Crowd.  We’re one and the same!  Well, his favourite subject is ‘woke’ which he treats with mockery and disdain, nightly – All Hail, piers! – followed, closely, by ‘Mega’ Markle.  A positive wealth of material to be gleaned from both, I thought, if nothing else, he might appreciate my musings before enhancing his recycling.  Nothing ventured, nothing gained.  For my part, I think a weekly round-up, in verse, of the latest ‘woke’ lunacies – à la Trish-Trash – could be just the boost he needs!

Sounds simple.  Send him my ‘best bits’ and job done.  I wish!  I was aware that I have been writing for years – seven of them – and I plan to have each year printed and bound one day soon but I feel as though I have documented my entire life and everyone else’s, for that matter.  Opening a post is like knocking over the first domino and then being powerless but to go with the flow.  I could be lost for days.   I might never emerge.  The proverbial rabbit hole.  Just me?  I suppose it is me writing about me and documenting my thoughts and opinions on a world which is increasingly cynical and dark.  Even in the space of seven years, so much has changed; so much we have gone through but it is addictive reading back over the events and mindsets which have brought us to this point.  Good to know my time has not been wasted but, like photographs on a phone, I must ensure that my words are not forever consigned to a hard drive but, rather, given life in print.

In short, the task of selection has been all-consuming and, thus, I am shelving it for the moment.  As ever, there is danger in over-thinking and I fear I have lost all objectivity, so, why don’t I just add to my portfolio of work whilst I re-group …  I was, actually, thinking of Piers as I walked on the beach this morning.  As July draws ever near and, with it, the 150th Open Championship, the stands are in place as the tented village grows roots.  The activity is frenetic as the iconic town prepares, once again, to take its place centre stage; to captivate the sporting world for four excitement-fuelled days.  Blessed with glorious sunshine, there is no better backdrop as another page of history is written.  For that backdrop is timeless.  As I look across to the R&A and Hamilton Grand, though – and think of Pop, as always – I just see Seve.  July 1984.  On top of the world!  Always will.

Charisma.  How does one define it?  Why is it that some people have it in spades and others possess the charm of a spade?  That’s life, I suppose.  The thing is, the magnetism that is charisma can neither be bought nor feigned.  It is innate – and irresistible.  That was Seve Ballesteros.  Yes, he was tall, dark and handsome but he was so much more.  He had a twinkle, a vibrancy and a character to match his natural talent on the golf course.  Honed, as a boy, on the beach back home in Spain, his game could be as unpredictable as it was magical but, like himself, it was never boring.  He, naturally, inspired great loyalty and love and so it was that the world over mourned his death on 7th May, 2011 from a cancerous brain tumour.  He was 54 years-old.  Only the good die young …

Forever in our hearts, though, and forever young.  Books on Seve abound in Toppings, the independent book shop in town, but never more so than now.  Only the other day, I spied an elegant coffee table tome, bound in navy blue with four letters embossed in gold on the front: Seve.  Enclosed in cellophane, I asked to have a look inside.  Beautifully presented, it was full of amazing photographs accompanying the story of his life; a must have, I thought, to add to my collection.  “There doesn’t seem to be a price.  Can you tell me how much it is?”  £198.  “Very funny!  No, seriously?”  £198.  Limited Edition, Number 178.   “Right.  Well …  Any chance of getting hold of Number One?!” 

The power of charisma.  Only two copies in store, that gold-plated book will fly off the shelf come the 10th July, all the way to America, I have no doubt.   Then, again, avid golfer, Piers, may take one home.  Me?  One can never have too many books …

Just for the record, I have never played golf!  Who would have thought?  Growing up in a family of golfers – male – a spit from St Andrews, somehow us, girls, showed no interest nor were we ever encouraged to play.  Happy doing other things – and welcoming the break – we would often join the men for the last couple of holes, with dog in tow, before retiring to the clubhouse for a gin and tonic.  Halcyon days before women decided they want to be men!  Working out so well – not!

Yes, a flash of normality, berating this ‘woke’ world, as is my wont.  Lulled into a false sense of security by my Seve-worship?  I couldn’t possibly fail to mention Monday’s news pertaining to KPMG, one of the four largest audit and accounting firms, globally.  In short, staff have been told not to mention private schools, gap years and ski-ing holidays in a bid to boost inclusivity.  Employees must, now, agree to take unconscious bias training or risk losing their bonuses.  The training sessions, meanwhile, will focus on the biases around race, class, gender, disability and sexual orientation.  Note the absence of exclamation marks.  Somehow, not appropriate in view of the gravity belying this latest lunacy; the tentacles of control reaching ever wider.  Not content with a world of sheep who have, seemingly, lost all cognitive skills – or because of – the poison that is ‘woke’ continues to seep, insidiously, into every corner of life, buoyed by a lack of resistance borne of the Tyranny of Tolerance.  Most are too frightened to speak up; to disagree; to have an opinion.  Or, in truth, most cannot be bothered.  Under the guise of inclusivity, the world is sinking, rapidly, down to the lowest common denominator.  Confined, injected, isolated, monitored, impoverished, bit by bit, we are being herded into that field.  Now, told what one can and cannot say?   Harrowing images of the Holocaust flash through my mind as malnourished and tortured, physically and mentally destroyed, those broken human beings filed to their fate.  Innocent victims of unbridled evil; a lust for power and control.  Seventy-seven years on, the strategy may be more subtle but the bid for supremacy remains the same.  To think it all began with an apple …

That world is ended, as if it had never been.  Let the race of Adam and Eve take warning.’

C S Lewis

Always good to end on a high!

This is Trish, signing off.