There are those in life who prefer to be guided; told what to do. I have never been one of them. This fact, however, is becoming increasingly problematic, not least in terms of my blood pressure! To be honest, burying one’s head and complying is definitely the easiest option. Do I wish I could just acquiesce? Never. My eyes were opened to the sinister machinations of this world approximately six years ago when, I suppose, my mindset had already been altered forever. In the words of my favourite, Don Henley, The End of the Innocence – my innocence – took place in 2012. Growing up, I could as well have lived on Walton’s Mountain, believing that people were good and happiness was a given. ‘Everything will fall into place’ was one of Pop’s mantras – and I never questioned it. More fool me? No, I was blessed to be cosseted from harsh reality – and grateful for that time. Sadly, though, when no longer blind, one cannot help but see.
Gripped? Sounds like a pre-cursor to something of great note? Negative. Merely the ongoing saga of BT! However, never take for granted the ‘accidental’ thread of these posts … I’m sure I have mentioned it previously, the enforced changeover to digital? Not for me. Twenty minutes of negotiation and I thought I had made myself perfectly clear: cancel landline, no new box; no digital. No Alexa, no smart speaker, no monitoring! Well, yes, I have an iPhone – which I dislike intensely, I might add, much preferring my Blackberry of old – and, yes, of course, my every word is monitored by that but one is forced to choose one’s battles. I do need some means of communication, though I, too, recognise the power of its addiction. And? I had been infuriated by BT’s bombardment but believed I had cut them off at the pass. Apparently not. ‘Hi from EE. We’ve sent your TV Box Pro’. Sorry? Who said anything about EE, let alone a TV Box Pro?! Blood pressure! Makes me think of Pop and how he would have reacted in my position. Like me, he wasn’t one for being told what to do and he abhorred misplaced assumption, ignorance or incompetency. His go-to was always to ‘burst into print’. Obsolete today in a world largely devoid of literacy. So, what now? Another phone call – on my mobile – to wherever? I, actually, rang, in a rush, this morning and told them to shove the box I knew nothing about but … the point of all this is the underlying urgency to update my box; any box! If I cancelled the whole lot, broadband, TV, everything, what would they send me then? Do you think, if I told them I could do with a new dishwasher, they’d find some way of including a box?! Clearly, the future is one of surveillance whether it be disguised as a box or a light-fitting. Whilst compliance is out of the question, all I ask is that their efforts be a tad more subtle!
Waste of time. Straight in with the Size 10s, only last week there was a news item spotlighting China’s huge manufacturing base in Shanghai where hundreds of companies are using AI to develop robotic solutions in every field. One of the country’s greatest ‘advantages’ – apparently – is the four million students/year graduating in science, technology and engineering. Greatest advantage? What? To develop something capable of going rogue and de-throning man? Always said, nothing beats a good ending – and a comic one, at that! Meanwhile, they are going for a robot in every home by 2030 – presumably, in China. Perfect. I shall await a replacement for the remote control and – jolly, jolly – someone/something to pour my gin!
Well, while we await the inevitable invasion of the robots, I have a question: what is the fixation with the name Caroline?! I know, slightly left-field but why is it that there are so many songs about Caroline? Think about it, there’s the obvious, Neil Diamond’s football anthem, Sweet Caroline – sacrilege, or what! Status Quo’s Caroline – always sweet, for some reason, and many, many more. Look them up. I ended up going down this random rabbit hole after hearing the latest: Mumford & Sons new single, Caroline! Why? Does it merely lend itself to rhythm and rhyme or is it learned? Got this great song, just need a girl’s name … I know, Caroline. Tried and trusted. That’ll do. There has to be a reason, surely? I’ve given this a lot of thought over the years, believe me. Growing up, I used to crave a song about Patricia; one which was romantic, lyrical, memorable. Patricia the Stripper. That was it. My lot! Consolation lay elsewhere, however. If I couldn’t be immortalised in song for all eternity then, at least, I could align myself with the nobility of Ancient Rome: think Patricians and Plebs. Works for me – and proof, once more, that in the words of the Mother Abbess in The Sound of Music, ‘When the Lord closes a door, somewhere he opens a window’.
Forgive me as I endeavour to seek light in the darkness! Translated, I am trying to lift my head from the news; trying to restrict my Patrick Christys’ viewing, of an evening! All too awful; too all-consuming. Once upon a time, I used to make notes constantly. My eyes were opened during Covid – never to be shut again: the lies, the greed, the brain-washing. I was compelled to write about it – daily, much of the time; to join the dots in the hope that the blind would see … The thing is, in the years since Covid, the aftermath is more keenly felt. Those who could always see, see, now, an even more dangerous, brutal world; an increasingly divisive world in which nothing is as it seems; one whose path is being controlled, in the main, by liars and narcissists. Meanwhile, those who chose not to see, continue to do so, content to exist rather than to thrive; to comply rather than to dissent.
‘Sheep, form a line, you see nothing to lose
But me? I was born to have the right to choose …’
A Voice Outwith the Crowd, Ode to Covid
I wrote that poem in less than an hour, late one afternoon in December 2020. Just my thoughts on paper, the repetition of the line, ‘What happened to the right to choose?’ was completely organic, even taking me by surprise. The superb video which accompanies my words ensured something haunting; a piece which not only deserved to go viral but, moreover, whose thread remains ever more pertinent today. Back then, I was invigorated to write in the belief that it was necessary; for the greater good. Five years on, the same wheels are still in motion, clearly, and any cry for freedom seems lost in the abyss. In an increasingly sinister world, where is the light? It’s exhausting! ‘I no longer watch the news …’. I do. I have no choice. However, I can no longer write about it, constantly. It’s too depressing. Does anyone listen? Trish-Trash is supposed to inject colour into a black and white world … Humour. Never under-estimate the power of. The answer to every question.
‘Trish, the highlight of my day is phoning you. That’s how bad it is!’ Pop
How we laughed …
This is Trish, signing off.
