Wolf

We do not stumble in silence

Tangled in your web of fear

We stride, elbow to elbow

We are the seers

These words are influenced by Idles, Biffy and Rage against the machine. 

Xxx

Gone precipice

No more wondering what if

Just a myriad of now

All your here, thundering my wow

He's opposites

He's opposites, the contrary
contradiction.
Pure sweetness, my cure and
my addiction.
Alike Friday, with sheer joy
and the oblivion.

I'm happiness but still with
broken parts.
His global splendor,
hydrating all my parch.
There's been some toil in
travels, yet rose petals in my
march.

The Eärendil's star, he's
brilliance in light and dark.
His here strings me out, with
violins and harps.
Each moment written, with
red quills dipped in heart.

Once we had Rawls principle,
it echoes on us still.
Like forgotten raindrops on
the windowsill .
Songs are near harmonic,
almost, nearly.
Will!

Opinion

My blog isn't usually somewhere that I share my political opinions. I allude to them, certainly. I have talked about love. I've talked about empathy. I've referred to poverty. Yet I don't usually make clear statements about politics. Today that changes. 

I've read quite a few posts, memes and sentiment that we, the people, should be kind to the government. We should be kind to our elected prime minister. We should, to a point, be kind to everyone. However we need to remember that politicians do not become politicians without choice. The people that represent us choose to do so. With that choice comes responsibility. Politicians who earn a pretty hefty salary and by in large, claim a large amount of expenses. They are not struggling to make ends meet. They are not suffering under the system, they shape it (albeit not alone and let's not overlook the power of big businesses like Amazon). 

Just because someone tells you something is safe, it does not mean that it is safe. There are a vast array of people who tell us all kinds of things, for all kinds of reasons and the truth might not have anything to do with it. It is vital that every single person questions the status quo. It's important that every single person considers why a group or a person says whatever it is that they are saying. In sociology, this is called Interest Groups. If I'm the PM and I'm under pressure to reignite the economy then I might tell people that they will be safe if they are careful. 

Whatever your political opinions, the current UK government have made a number of decisions that have cost people's lives. They are continuing to do this.

We should have closed our borders to people traveling from China and parts of the world that are close to China back in December. We should also have tested and quarantined travelers into the UK many months before now. 

PPE and ventilators should have been stockpiled months ago. 

In February the online 111 service told people who thought they may have Covid-19 that unless they had travelled to China or Thailand or had contact with someone who was known to have Covid-19, they did not need to do anything. Thinking about this logically or, as the current government tend to say, scientifically, this makes absolutely no sense. Yes the situation was evolving but it stands to reason that any person having contact with any other person might catch any virus, new or otherwise. 

Given that the government was slow and yes negligent, we should have made the UK lockdown stricter and we should have extended it. 

Finally I really hope that every person who reads these words will consider this famous quote 'quis custodiet ipsos custodes?' In English 'who will watch the watchmen?' The answer is, we will. 

Small joys

I was contemplating the things that bring me joy. Just the little things in life. Here's some of them:

• The smell of ginger
• Drinking green tea 
• Chocolate - the smell, the taste. Shame about the calories
• How I feel after a cold shower. Definitely not during. That part is rubbish. 
• Pulling the brush out of my concealer. It makes a really comforting noise. 
• The feeling I get from music
• Candles - they change the mood of a room
• Following an impromptu karaoke session at home yesterday due to working out how to use my daughter's microphone properly - I remembered how much I love singing. It was tremendous fun. Of course I singalong-a-spotify as much as the next person. Singing without a mic is great but with one, it's next-level joy. 
• Drinking from my pentagram mug. It's a little bit of magic every time
• Reading Pratchett. Reading generally. Whenever I have hiatuses because I think I haven't got time to read, I miss it. I'm less at peace without a book
• This blog ♥️
• Dancing around. 

All these things are free or inexpensive and they all create joy. 

The RGF xx 

All-seeing-eye

Today as I woke, my mind wandered back to my youth. The days when getting my next copy of NME and Melody Maker were as vital to me as the air. I was around 17 when my interest in music began. I liked music before. In that I watched TOTP and spent a lot of time trying to end a recording of Radio One before the over-enthusiastic DJ chatted over some inconsequential Mariah Carey hit. I wasn't cool then. I'm not cool now. But somewhere around 17 to 25, I tried to be. My image was tied up in 'significant' music. Kurt Cobain was God and NME was bible. 

Yet I felt unknowledgeable. It seemed like everyone around me had been listening to Black Sabbath since birth. They knew music. They could probably write a column in Indiecator magazine ( if magazines employed cocky teenagers). I was still learning. Of course they were too. Everyone was. In their own lives, with their own interests. But I didn't know that. To me, they were Mr Miyagi. Wax on. Wax off. 

I was excited though. It seemed like a whole world of magic was opening up for me. My passport to the new world was record stores, alternative clothes shops and music papers. 

Sometime into my foray into 'real music', I started attending Chicos in Hanley. It was Stoke's home of alternative music. Thinking back to the decor, it had wall to wall mirrors. No doubt designed to support the ego's of its narcissistic clientele.The people (I generalise) liked to watch themselves dance. It didn't matter if they were rockers, goths or indie types - everyone had their moment in the sun that was the lights of Chicos. 

The greatest narcissist of all was the DJ. Like many DJs, he was the all-seeing-eye of the dancefloor. Literally - from his elevated DJ box and figuratively - from his self-important vantage point. Even Moriarty wasn't as cocky as this guy nor was he this much of a sociopath (ok, that's a moderate exaggeration). The DJ at Chicos wasn't there to entertain. He was there to impart wisdom through his speakers. If you dared to request a tune, it had better be an 'impressive' one. Music taste is subjective? Not in Chicos. Obviously you couldn't and wouldn't ask for Mariah Carey. That would be ridiculous. Fortunately, by then, I absolutely detested her. Yet you couldn't necessarily ask for The Levellers either. And woe betide the person who asked about a song without full accurate details of artist and track. I did this once, I nervously approached the DJ of Doom and mumbled my question. Who was the band on the last track? He looked down at me with a gaze of contempt. Corner shop, he said. Or so I thought. It was years later that I discovered that the song was actually by Culture shock. The song track was Pressure. I now own the vinyl that includes this song. The DJ wasn't wrong (impossible, at least in his view), I'd just misheard him. Nerves and noise certainly affect the eardrums. 

As I write these words today, I think I've written something like this before. Likely on this very blog. Maybe it was even my first ever blog post. If I have and you've read it, consider this the remix. Otherwise, consider this entirely unique. ;-)

Yours, The RGF 

Xx

Lead

I want lead but all I have is glass

No more fragile glamour

With its colour iridescent

Give me strength that lasts

Unobtainable?

My parents and I were discussing my daughter's unfortunate ability to select boyfriends who aren't really as keen as she is. The ambivalent. The vague. The would be player. Even though they're only age 8. My parents joked about the parallels. I exclamation that "I never had a boyfriend at age 8". My mum commented how distressed I was when a certain lad moved away. "Michael Horton" I asked? "That's him", she said. I replied, "mum, he wasn't my boyfriend. "He was just a friend".

I know this because at that time I had a crush on a boy called Rupert. Rupert had red curly hair and wore bottle green jumpers. I kissed his back once. Seemed like a good idea at the time. I can't remember if he noticed but I do know that he had no interest in me whatsoever. Whereas reliable, sweet Micheal Horton was a faithful friend. But he didn't have interesting hair. Or whatever my 8 year old self deemed as extreme magnetism.

I wonder, do I still choose the slightly unobtainable? Is that what attractive means to me? Will my daughter do that too?

The RGF xx

Even in stillness

Your name appears, bottom right

It's a pseudonym surname

Something that sounded Italian

Sometimes I let my mouse hover

So I can see your name for longer

You, suspended, in the corner

Then I watch the name fade away

Wondering if it's a metaphor

I click on your words

Waiting for the echoes of you

Will this be the last message?

Can we hover longer?

Even if we're not moving

Because even in stillness

You are my love, my one