In-dust-tree
The colour green can produce nausea. What is the toxic in the green? Envy? Jealousy? We have a Green Party to look after the green. We have a Tory Party, nestling in their surbanised rural retreats, to look after forever England or Britain or Ukania or whatever we might call this wonderous jewel of glorious Govish history. Though you do have to keep up, no lagging or dragging. There’s that other thing, greed is what I’m talking about. Greed which is intimately connected to envy and jealousy. We look anxiously around to see what we are missing out on, what the other guy is stealing from us, what is rightfully ours. We got here first. Lorded over by the pink horror. Ladied over by Lady May, whose great achievement was to identify the true name of the Tory Party as the Nasty Party. Nasty being uncomfortably close to Nazi; a closeness which is always tearing itself out of the fat underbelly of the Party in dressing up rituals. What fun!
We love this green and pleasant land but we also have to fight over it. What is allowed and not allowed? A couple of days ago as I was walking round the local industrial estate I had the thought that I love this industrial estate. It has this wonderfully gritty appearance. The muscularity of metal and brick. The evidence of human productivity rather than the emptiness of the suburban aesthetic. A little secret is that nobody walks around these streets. Only me, dodging the puddles, keeping my eyes alert for lorries, vans, cars coming out of every nook and cranny. You are only really allowed here if you are driving a motor vehicle of some sort. I guess even a motor bike would do. But walking. What sort of human being are you? No car? No status? Perhaps they kindly, generously assume that I have just left my car at one of the garages for a service. Or perhaps it is neither kind nor generous but simply the minimum requirement to be considered human. Where’s your car? What sort of car do you own? What do you do? The questions push me close to the cliff edge.
And what about climate change? Have we now been battered by enough storms to accept that human activity is leading to climate change? The hanging rails at Dawlish was quite an image to think about.
