Not Race, Space

Space for rent?

On Twitter earlier I read a few posts where people are admitting they are genuinely frightened about the fact that next year up to 250,000 Romanian and Bulgarian immigrants could flood into Britain after access restrictions are lifted. Is the way we intend to go forward? Making our citizens fearful of the future that lies ahead?
I am not a racist, and 9/10 times you hear someone say this, you can almost guarantee that the next words to fall from their lips will be racist but not so today if you'll hear me out. In the 1990s I was part of the "End Racism: Live In A Colourful World" campaign, nd recently I stood up to racist bullies who were being horrid to my partners work colleague (her workmate is Filipino.)
Im as far from racist as the bottom of the ocean is to outer space but then immigration is not about race, its about space. Great Britain is a small island, an island that if we are not careful will have people spilling off the edge of our coasts. Where are all these homes going to go? Are we going to build skyscraper monstrosities and have them looming over the streets like giant bars casting depressing shadows? Our green and pleasant lands will have to make way for apartment blocks I suppose and wildlife be damned.
I fear we are reaching a sad chapter in British history, miserable time created not by people fearful of a foreign race (although one can't deny this is happening in some places) but more by the simple fact that islands have limits. It is impossible to try and stretch earth that it is not there. The only way to build would be up and then we will end up looking like 2000AD's Mega City One. (And without the swift, efficient law and order that exists in that fictional city.)
Im all for folk coming to the UK to seek a better life than the one that has been offered in their own homeland, and I applaud the ones who go on to find work here and contribute to society like the rest of us (shirkers aside of course.) But our lands can only offer so much, it is folly to believe we can provide for everyone. Common sense and a quick glance at Great Britain on a map ought to tell us this.

And Even Concrete Changes

His Masters Voice

HMV is set to go into administration after 92 years and bang goes another big name store that holds memories from my youth. As a young metalhead I used to hang around outside the Swansea HMV in the quadrant with all the other headbangers, clutching our newly bought heavy metal vinyl/cassettes and discussing our 'scene'. Truly great times when it was a joy to go to Swansea.
But times they insist on change, demand it with a stubborn fist like a barfly ordering another scotch. Like the water in our oceans, nothing stays still not even steel and concrete. Our town and city centers are vastly different to how they were in the 1980s and its not just fashion that is making the difference. I fear that all that is going to be left open are pound shops and mobile phone 'bars', which is a reflection of how cheap and lazywe have become as a collective society. (And if there is a kind way of being cheap and lazy, then this is the way I mean it. Im not condemning anyone for online shopping.) The 'hivemind' is targeted toward bargains, good things for less (largely due to the internet) and bricks and mortar shops suffer as a result.
There is nothing wrong with bargain hunting of course, as long as we remember that other things (shop wise) will get hit by it. We bemoan the fact that big stores are disappearing yet all we do is shrug our shoulders, pick up the mouse and surf on over to Amazon, Zavvi, Netflix, etc to merrily contribute to the death rattles of the high street. It seems we will miss them once they vanish for good but not that much.
Mr Jakes is no less guilty, afterall the convenience of Tesco online is difficult to ignore and its so simple these days. (Not to mention warmer/safer in the midst of the snow and ice we are currently experience in Britain.) But I admit I buy from the internet with a heavy heart (and lighter wallet,) my mind racing back to the times spent outside Swansea's HMV in the Quadrant with every virtual basket I fill. Oh so bittersweet.

Project Kate

In all her glory

"Lifeless," "disappointing," "ordinary," "dull" and "old" are some of the words being hurled at the first official portrait of the Duchess of Cambridge, by artist Paul Emsley. I must admit ive only had a few fleeting glances at the painting and am no art critic but as the old saying goes, I know what I like and I like this painting. Why all the fuss? In my humble opinion Kate Middleton is an average looking young woman who I think Emsley has captured perfectly. Due to Kate's penchant for dressing 'soberly' she looks more like 41 than 31 and 'ordinary' is exactly the word I would use to describe her. (And I no I am not suggesting she dress like Jodie Marsh.)
The British public become far too precious and picky when it comes to the Royal family, especially the younger female ones (remember saint Diana?) almost to the point that speaking of them in anything other than praise is heresy. Its a bit of a nonsense really.
Mr Jakes raises a glass to the artist for capturing the Duchess in all her glory, however plain that glory is. And if next you hear that im in the Tower of London you'll know why.

The Blondin Donkey

Have we met before?

An unusual post to kick 2013 off with a bang.
Anybody who has read The Diary Of A Nobody by George Grossmith (illustrations by his brother Weedon) will be familiar with the Blondin Donkey if they paid close enough attention (its only mentioned in fleeting.) The Pooters' errant son Lupin announces that his friend will perform the Blondin Donkey to a small gathering of family.
The Diary Of A Nobody first appeared in 1888, the donkey is Victorian in age but it seems so familiar to me. (Im not that old I can assure you!)
How is this? Did Mr Jakes live another life in the 19th century only to emerge so soon again in the 20th? Even the sketch above is no stranger to my sight and yet the first time I ever clapped (mortal) eyes on it was when it popped up in a Google search of 'Blondin Donkey'. Perhaps we really do have two sets of eyes ~ the physical ones and 'spiritual' ones for certainly at times the most obscure of things strike chords of familiarity deep within the soul. Such a curious feeling.