‘You’ll never notice because you’re hypnotised by a world that doesn’t exist.’
Blank page. No notes other than this quote. An incredible quote; well, one which struck a chord with me. It’s spoken by ‘Monica‘ in the series Yellowstone, a must-see, particularly for a long -time wannabe cowgirl. Set in Montana, the scenery is spectacular, as one would expect: space, never-ending space beneath an infinite sky; mountains, wild horses and fast-flowing rivers … Freedom courtesy of God’s own country, as Pop used to call it. Montana certainly is that. On my bucket list, I have wanted to go forever. Yellowstone served only to remind me why – and so much more.
Why am I writing about some television series? Well, as I mentioned, I have no notes. Unheard of, I have switched off before I self-combust. This country is free-falling, rapidly, and our prospects are daunting. Corruption is tightening its grip as lawlessness abounds. A biased police force unworthy of trust is crippling but so, too, is the demise of the National Health Service. To be ill, now, is not an option, unless one can afford to go private. The elderly are dispensable. Covid proved that! There are waiting lists of over seven million as the appeased – for now – striking doctors gleefully count their pennies following the 22% pay rise handed to them, immediately, by the new Health Secretary, Wes Streeting. Please be my friend! Make me look good … Short-sighted in the extreme, rather. No surprise. Then, straight out of the blocks come the poor, beleaguered GPs threatening a reduction in hours – a seven-day weekend? – and, of course, mental health! Must be so stressful ‘seeing’ patients online for £100k. So stressful. More funds. Throw further millions into the bottomless pit. That’ll solve everything. Negative! Three words: management, diversity, inclusion. Layer upon layer of unqualified, non-medical leeches on six-figure salaries; woke unqualified, non-medical leeches on six-figure salaries capable of nothing more than re-directing funds into their own bank accounts. The NHS doesn’t need more money, it needs taken apart and re-built from scratch, all management removed. Diversity Officers on six-figure salaries; thousands spent on woke seminars demanding inclusivity; woke madness pandering to a transgender minority, even attempting to change our language – chestfeeding instead of breastfeeding? That’s where the money goes. Not on the sick. Not on much-needed equipment or research. Rather, on vacuous numpties incapable of grasping the onus of their positions, focused only on themselves – and trivia. Who, though, is going to save it, the NHS? Can it be saved? Can we?
It was summer today. A glimmer of sun, warmth and hope. Tomorrow? One hundred percent rain predicted. Of course. Meanwhile, as I write, the Olympic Closing Ceremony is on in the background. Scared to watch! Still, ever grateful that it’s all over for another four years. Just me? Non-stop BBC coverage and no end of sycophancy – perhaps not the right word – on the radio. Exaggerated enjoyment, then, feigned lest one dare to diverge from the crowd. Olympics. Diverse. Inclusive. It follows, one must enthuse. What little I saw – and heard – of the Opening Ceremony was enough. I did my best to avoid, which is sad really, considering its history and the respect it once commanded. Seems I may be out on a limb, however, on witnessing the emotion of Djokovic winning a gold medal for Serbia and how much it means/meant to Andy Murray. Something has definitely changed, though. I remember, so excitedly, watching Marian Coakes and Stroller (a mere pony at 14.2hh) winning their silver medal at the Mexico Olympics in 1968 … Fast forward to now and breakdancing is a recognised discipline! How far we have come. Meantime, what memories will I take from my deliberately limited scrutiny of the Paris Olympics? Well, firstly, Charlotte Dujardin – multiple World and Olympic champion British dressage rider – and her spectacular fall from grace, immediately before, when old video footage emerged of her misuse of a lunging whip on a horse during training; then, there was swimmer, Adam Peaty, hitting out at the gold medal Chinese team in the 4 X 100m medal relay. Two of the winning four were among the 23 Chinese swimmers who, reportedly, returned positive doping tests prior to the Tokyo Olympics in 2021. They were not banned as the China Anti-Doping Agency – not biased in any way – determined that they had unintentionally ingested the substance due to food contamination. The results were hushed up. However, apparently one of the four – Qin – had, previously, tested positive for another substance. Contaminated meat! Good to know that the home country is responsible for the testing, though … There was the furore over the gender of Algerian boxer, Imane Khelif, when her Italian opponent, Angela Carini, withdrew only 46 seconds into their fight claiming she had never met such a heavy punch. Male? Female? Who knew the International Olympic Committee (IOC) primarily rely on passports as the gender confirmation of competing athletes? A positive minefield with abundant opportunity for abuse. Once upon a time, it was all so simple. Once upon a time, the word ‘respect’ meant something; ‘pride’, too, back before it was hijacked by the LGBT community; back in the day when rainbows were magic …
Is it any wonder I have been watching Yellowstone instead? Centred on the Dutton family, who own the largest ranch in Montana, the over-riding theme is that of the constant culture clash between conservation and progress. The Yellowstone Ranch borders the Broken Rock Indian Reservation and as John Dutton is prepared to use any means possible to hold onto his land, one is constantly reminded to whom it rightly belongs. Monica, an American Indian, is married to John Dutton’s son, Kayce, and thus struggles to reconcile both worlds. A story with a conscience, it very much leans on the side of the indigenous population and, ironically, the common ground between white man and Indian as both fight to protect a Montana which is rapidly disappearing in the name of progress.
‘An intense study of a violent world far from media scrutiny, where land grabs earn developers billions and politicians are bought and sold … ‘. According to Google.
Inherent is a passion for the land which goes far beyond a brand, a logo or ownership. There is no price tag. It cannot be bought for it runs through the blood … and there is a lot of that! However, much of the intensity, too, is derived from the relationships within the family. A tragic family, torn apart following the death of the mother, each battling his/her own demons and insecurities; a family which has blurred the line between love and hate, ensuring wounds too deep to heal. It pulls you in, the writing so perceptive, so evocative; so spot on! An emotional wringer, I cannot recommend it more highly. The music, the opening graphics, alone … Enough?
‘You couldn’t fill a thimble with my faith in humanity.’
This is Trish, signing off.
