Dawn’s Blogs

WHAT DEFINES VULNERABLE?

By Dawn M. Sanders

In the societal definition of ‘vulnerable’ groups like people who are elderly, children, those with mental, sensory or physical health needs mainly come to mind.

However, having a medical condition which makes anyone more vulnerable to the coronavirus is distinctly different from a sensory, physical or cognitive impairment.

I’m visually impaired, but that has nothing to do with my immune system, whether I’ve had underlying health issues such as asthma, cancer or even a common cold is another story particular with the outbreak of a world pandemic.

So, when someone asked me last week, ‘how am I doing my shopping’ it didn’t acur to me until later to reply – exactly how I usually do it, either get on a bus to town or Tesco or walk to my local 1 stop.

As far as I’m concerned, I live alone and where I happen to live is isolated.

I live on a private estate well away from the road at the top of a steep hill in a complex of 50 flats.

A lot of people don’t know this estate is here, it’s extremely quiet and not the friendliest place as people keep themselves to themselves or often flat ignore you if you say hello.

Unless I come into contact with others through an arranged meeting, such as a workshop, Labour party meeting, an interview, hanging out in a pub or visiting someone by arrangement – I’m always on my own.

I have had a few people contact me to ask if I’m okay or need anything which, is nice, but actually, if one is fairly socially isolated anyway, it’s nothing new, but further exacerbates your status if asked to socially distance when I’m already distanced by default as my grown up son lives in the north.

I’m not above asking for help, but as a general rule, when it comes to people with any additional needs, others are good at helping with functional things: a hand to the shop door if I’ve passed it, a hand over a tricky street crossing or unfamiliar place.  Yet, people never ask, ‘do you have anyone keeping you company or to talk to?

Loneliness is a really personal thing and, in my experience, not something people generally want to admit to.

In last week’s blog I wrote about the decline in community and increased individualism.  Yet with the outbreak of this deadly virus and the need to socially distance, virtual communities are springing up via zoom calls. I read today how a locally known elderly lady was thought of by others in her area and a phone number was slipped through her letter box – just to let her know help was there if she needed it.

However, loneliness doesn’t just affect the elderly.

The above article and others I have come across all point to the same thing – which is an increasing number of adults of all ages becoming isolated or feeling lonely.

If a child is considered ‘different’ and no one wants to play with her/him, the child will experience loneliness at an early age, just when it is vital to have friends.

In getting back to being vulnerable to the spread of coronavirus, the assistant I see once a week, who reads the post, helps with inaccessible aspects of the internet, such as uploading job applications etc. is seen to supposedly be the one who would go out and get my shopping as we’re told to socially distance.

Yet, she is more likely to infect someone she meets, as she lives with her family and travels on public transport to get to my house.

The point is, why should I have someone else doing my shopping when I can do it as I normally would?  The only difference between my assistant and I, in going to a familiar shop, is that I’m visually impaired and she isn’t.

Even if I go on my own and the shop assistant helping me has to guide me by giving me an arm – well there is a way around it by one of us in front of the trolley and the other pulling as I did as a natural course of action the last time I went grocery shopping  – so there are practical ways of maintaining some level of normality in these weird and uncertain times.

The main thing I feel, that makes me more vulnerable, is the increased isolation to what I already endure.

What I wouldn’t do for just a conversation – talking politics over a glass of wine up on our communal gardens – out in the fresh air, minimalizing the spread of the virus, but maximising my overall wellbeing.

By Dawn M. Sanders

It is absolutely everywhere and spreading like fear itself.  If one doesn’t actually have the virus or symptoms, we are affected by it anyway, so we all, in effect have it.

Going out with a friend for dinner tonight for my birthday got cancelled as my friend is on quarantine from just a cough and cold, so out of action for 2 weeks.  My short story writing course was suspended until later dates, as was the course I was excepted on for Empowering Women via the Labour party.

I’m of course not worried about any inconveniences, if anything as I’m behind on my story it will give me more time to thrash out the storyline, develop the characters and coggle together a middle and ending.

I live alone, so social isolation is nothing new.  However, I’m desperate to visit my son in Sheffield and am toying with the idea of just getting on a nice empty train, spending the little I have and just going up before there’s an actual travel ban – I’ve never known a more weird and wild state of affairs in my life!

A Case for Socialism

This article has come out and mirrored exactly what I’ve been thinking the last few days – it’s times like these that capitalism shows its true cracks and how the whole system isn’t fit-for-purpose.

I’m no expert on the world economy or how it’s wired up, but a world pandemic, a war or big natural disaster affecting movement and Wall Street and the western countries panic over the thought of a looming recession.

Socialism is a system that places services and production in the hands of the community to better the whole of society, yet every time a leader emerges to attempt to put Socialism into practice for a more equal society, they are halted in their tracks or stifled before reaching power altogether as lately with the likes of Jeremy Corbyn or possibly Bernie Sanders in the US as the primary season is underway for this year’s election and bid for the top prise of the presidency.

Countless Socialist leaders have been toppled and replaced with ruthless dictators in non-western countries such as Salvador Allende of Chile in 1973 in a coup backed by the US.

Capitalism has run much of the show since the preindustrial 17^th century.

The beginning of the 80s brought the greed mentality and heightened individualism and with crime, social decline and moral decay spreading fear among people everywhere, communities or community spirit has become a thing of the past, even in smaller towns.

Only during natural hardship, such as a bad storm, heavy snow or earthquake in some poor third world country, does humanity take a turn for the better or worse.

Now with this global pandemic, communities are coming together and help is out there for especially elderly people who are at risk and are told to self-isolate.

The Environment and Wildlife

I watched a news segment on channel 4 the other night which showed how there were tropical fish swimming near the surface of the Grand Canal, due to the  lack of steady flow in boat traffic which is popular with tourists in Venice, Italy.

Just think of the reduction of airplane fuel which permeates the skys above the earth on a constant basis, due to flights being grounded to prevent the spread of the virus.  It will be a small but temporary relief for the stratosphere.  Yet, will people and governments go straight back to the environmentally destructive habits when the virus finally subsides – one can only hope.

As the above article points out, it shouldn’t take a global crisis for humanity to take stock of its destruction of itself and the planet, but often that is just the human mentality being brought to its knees.

A child might change her selfish behaviour if all her toys and privileges are taken away and she is exposed to the less fortunate.  But if all her things are given straight back to her and she goes back to be a self-centred brat, what lesson would be learnt?

The same applies to the human race on a mass scale.

Of course, emissions are only a part of environmental degradation.  With even heavier use of the internet as people work from home or engage in virtual conferences, the mass of energy used and the threat of heightened frequencies such as 5G are equally detrimental to human health and environmental wellbeing.

It is worth questioning – when draconian measures are eventually lifted, cafes, schools and businesses reopen and the world recovers, can it ever be back to business as usual?  After governments such as ours implement the proposed minimal working wage or back-up measures for working people, especially those in the gig economy, due strictly to the coronavirus crisis, it will be interesting to watch how society reacts when all the niceties and socialist strategies put in place are then stripped away with a return to job insecurity, people going back to work and getting back into their cars in  blitz-like stiff-upper-lip resolve.

I don’t think the coronavirus will be the serendipity to save our pre-apocalyptic dystopia – I think it’s just the beginning.

This week has been a kind of liberating D-week (Democracy).

As a UK Labour party member, I voted online for our new leader and deputy leader after a colossal defeat in last December’s general election.

As an American citizen, I had the opportunity to vote from abroad, in woohoo ‘super Tuesday’!

For those who don’t get the whole complicated US system of voting, at least for the Democratic party which (I only joined for the run up to the 2016 primaries to back Bernie Sanders).  Voting state-by-state begins with Iowa caucuses in the American mid-west.

Super Tuesday saw 14 states vote in the run up to the democratic nomination at the Democratic National Convention (DNC) in July.

Once the nomination has been cast, the race is on between in this case, the democratic nominee and Donald Trump.

So as he’s running again on a Democratic ticket, yet an independent within the US Senate, I voted for Bernie Sanders again.

The Gift of Democracy

It was the ancient Greeks who gifted the world with democracy.  The 3 main governing bodies which now manifest in the modern-day legislature, the executive and judiciary, have withstood centuries of change and limitations of those ancient times, such as the lottery system explained in the above article.

Not all of the world has of course embraced democracy, but for those of us who have, well let’s just look at where we’ve come to and how democracy is being underhandedly sabotaged.

On one hand democracy can feel like something to celebrate, especially in the so-called free world, but with widespread voter-rigging or interference – either from within a given country or from external players with vested interests, it can often feel like – what’s the point?

Just lately in the UK alone, we’ve  had Russian interference in Brexit, the Russia report itself which, seemingly has been buried until an exposing opposition comes along to demand its resurrection. the 2016 US election was the result of Russian interference, never mind the countless manoeuvres by successive US governments into ruthless so-called third world leaderships.

In the last decade alone, we have witness nations fighting tooth and nail for democracy, such as in the Arab spring or the determined demands in Hong Kong.

It’s safe to say now, the fight has come to the west for democracy as, we have been fairly apathetic or complacent for some time.

Now more than ever, as they fight tooth and nail or even via elongated wars for democracy in different parts of the world, the trend at least in some parts of the west is towards more dictating strangle holds.

With Johnson’s Tories and Trump’s GOP (Grand Old Party, Republicans) entering what looks to be dangerous secret trade talks, we too will have to fight tooth and nail for that priceless gift from the Greeks all those centuries ago.

So, stand up and be heard, cast your ballot – even if it’s for local elections because, one day sooner than we think, we just might not be awarded the right to choose.

HEREFORD

By Dawn M. Sanders

Just thought I would write this diddy for a humble and uncelebrated little place.

As I wind down my time here at the RNC, the main thing I wanted to do before I left the West Midlands is see the town of Hereford – actually correction, it’s a city, but only because of a cathedral.

Like most British places, it’s of course steeped in rich heritage.

When I came here to try an sharpen up some of my IT skills and gain some media production knowledge – I really knew nothing of the little city – particularly that it used to be part of Wales.

So yesterday, myself and a chirpy bright young American volunteer, walked the short distance into town via a busy road and over a railway bridge.

Saturday is market day in Hereford, so I knew it would be busy.

When we got into the main part of the town she explained the shops as we passed them.

I loved the old style market, abuzz with people, smells of food, herbs and traders shouting out, ‘strawberries and blue buries a pound, one left to go for free’…

It was a scene you see less and less of with big supermarkets taking over the way people buy food and other wears on offer, so I relished the vibe as people were content to stroll along the pedestrianised streets, chatting in a bouncing slightly sing-song western accent.

We walked further on down to the river, as I’m a keen walker, with the afternoon sun beaming bright in its autumnal glory.

The volunteer and I remarked on how strange it was to hear seagulls when Hereford is so landlocked.

We walked around the river which would lead us back into the narrow street where I had bought some natural products, as Church Street reminded me of a scaled down version of any given meandering lane in Brighton.

We walked back through the market – retracing our steps and stopped to enjoy a snack from the Thai stall where the food was prepared fresh in front of us.

How lovely it is that there really are still non-touristy, simple places where people are happy to just be…

2020: A Philosophy Of The Times

By Dawn M. Sanders

2020 has landed like a loaded jet halfway down the runway to hell – or is it two-thirds the way down?

Literally days into the new decade and without warning, President Trump drops a drone on a Senior Iranian commander.  With no consideration as to the implications and continuing with the long tradition of pest control and double standards, the US seemingly thinks it can get away with ignoring its fledgling power and influence in the world, its business as usual.

The Last of the Good Old Days

I came to the UK at 24 in 1992 and lived in London for 4-and-a-half years before opting for Brighton when I was pregnant and homeless with my now 23-year-old son.

My London days were filled with making new friends, hanging out with a couple of good London lasses and going clubbing with my misfit bedsit neighbours in a dive of a little place in London’s Archway.

When circumstances got the better of me and I ended up squatting in North London, I got friends with a dude who stayed platonic, which was easier to just hang out and go to as many of the free festivals we could get to with whoever tagged along.

However, when I became pregnant with my son, getting out of London when I did was the best thing I could have done, despite being of no fixed abode.

Brighton was good to me and I eventually landed a grotty studio flat, achieved residency and moved to a nicer, more spacious maisonette with my little lad.

Being a single mum, hard and lonely as it was, I had found my kindred spirits and Pagan roots at last.  Travelling, spending time at a quory protest site in a neck of the woods called Dead Woman’s Bottom, in the Forest of Dean.

I did Stonehenge and Avebury stone circles for the first time and life was bohemian beautiful.

A Darker Century

Wow!  So I’ve witnessed the turn of the century and it has been like turning into a darkened tunnel.

I feel like some living relic more bewildered by modernity all the time…

The millennium bug was all the panick and I remember sitting on my own in a fairly empty pub, as everyone was down on the beach for the fire works to see in the new millennium.  Sitting in Brighton’s Gladstone, I listened as pop tunes from the previous late 20^th century played over the speaker.  A new decade and mellinnium and there I sat on my own…

None of that mattered in the end, there we all were, no millennium bug and what a load of stupid humans…

The next year of course was the dark defining moment of 9/11 – who could ever, ever forget it?

The war, the protests, the lies and then of course the shadowy truth which many observing on the side-lines while politicians took us from night rades in the cities of Iraq, stand-offs in the mountains of Afghanistan to torture, had to uncover the truth themselves.

I was one of those political observers, as more of the truth was unearthed, the more I needed to know.

George W. Bush Jr. was in the Whitehouse by that time and I like other expats, was a shamed to admit to being American.

I had Joined Brighton’s peace coalition and the Truthout website mushroomed – based on the whole investigation into what was later found to be a conspiracy theory pointing to the claims of an inside job in years to follow.

I was fully immersed in my International Politics degree, having left Brighton for West Wales, a move I’ve regretted ever since, because the world was suddenly harsher.  Small-town ostrecism meant unspoken hostilities from the locals because my son and I were, not just non-Welsh, but ‘different’ and stood out.  My son and I may as well have been from outer space the way we were treated!

Highpoints, Intellectual and Political Growth

It was 2006 and I wanted to do field research in the Middle East, the place I had spent so much time reading about or hearing lecture after lecture on.

A flavour of it of course was when the lad and I travelled to

a so-called caravan in Morocco.

With a guide and translator, I made arrangements to have my son looked after and I was off to Egypt.

The experience was more than humbling, sobering and kind of bitter sweet.

I didn’t get on with my translator’s partner, a school teacher and spoilt western brat who insisted Egyptians should , ‘speak better English’ but we got through 5 weeks of the experience – including checkpoints in and out of Bethlehem along the perimeter wall, built by the Israelis.

I graduated University of Aberystwyth that next year with an average result which, was okay, because it was high time to get out of that hostile town.

Mistakes, Regrets and More Mistakes

Making all the wrong moves over the next several years was worse than being on any losing streak.  I won’t even grace the two years I spent down the toilet in yet another inbred small-town in Derbyshire with its name, as after two weeks there I knew I had made the wrong decision.

A stagnant period of trying this and that – getting nowhere and not any younger followed.

Then I did the web trawl of needle-in-the-haystack grasping at straws and found a part time foundation course on offer at University of Sheffield.

What followed was me sticking my head back into the sands of academia for another two years.

I had decided to look toward advocacy work with my wealth of life experience and experience of the awareness stuff I had done so far at university and alternative forums addressing special needs.

What would become yet another move I not only would regret, but to this day plagues my life as one of the worse mistakes I could have ever made for my little family.

During the time I raised my son single-handedly, with alternative principles as a free thinker, the threat of local authority intrusion was never far from my front door.

In fact, when it managed to barge it’s way into our lives – simply from an inaccurate tip off from someone in a playground in Aberystwyth or  disgruntled support workers who got too much mud on their shoes, stepping out of their comfort zone while accompanying us to a local festival, I had spent increasing amounts of time defending our position, right to be ‘different’ or, right not to “toe the line” when so-called professionals sized us up or made prejudged remarks about mine or my son’s capabilities or personality traits.

Sheffield, Socialism and Battles

When I left behind a council estate of unruly kids in the heart of middle England, I was desperate for a fresh start.

The only positives of the place, were a friendly next door neighbour and the fact it was only half an hour’s drive from my son’s specialist school, which meant he came home much more often.

Stupidly though, I didn’t make any manoeuvres to learn anything about Sheffield.  Before going to the open day at the university, I had never even been there.  But, in desperation to get out of small-town hell, bowing ‘never’ to live in a place like that again – I made the leap.

Maybe it was just the gipsy impulse I had leaped with when I was 24, new no one at all and had only visited the UK once, before deciding to immigrate – straight into the deepend.

I remember someone, a job coach at the job centre in the heart of Sheffield, telling me how, Sheffield was this macho kind of place – it was 2010 and he complained of how public services had been cut to the quick – I somehow never forgot that.

The 7 years I spent in Sheffield: trying to sniff out the need for advocacy, visiting volunteer organisations and making connections in a determined effort to move forward, were met with hostility of the most raw brand.

I was literally hounded by a social worker from the minute I set us up in a new home and everything I said or did was either taken out of context or scrutinised.

This hell ride became worse and worse – taking an unbearable turn when my son, who had been thriving at his school away from home, was ready for college and a change.

A failed business led me guess what, back to academia with the view to qualifying as a journalist.

Getting connected with Sheffield’s active Socialist party was a gem within poison pellets.

I did public speeches, got into the heart of our branch, helped with a policy or two and alas felt I had found where I had been politically all my life.

There was such a wealth of rich history to tap into – from when Sheffield’s buses were in public hands, the miners strikes, the general strike of 1926 – I had volumes to learn.

Keeping active in things I cared about kept me sane.

The Occupy movement mushroomed in the form of a makeshift camp in front of Sheffield’s cathedral and, their they all were, my kindred spirits, but it wasn’t to last.

In the final throws of my journalism masters, I waded through what felt like treacle, as the tit-for-tat with Sheffield became this psychological battle and war-of-words and wit.

I have since moved south, my son has lived in his own flat with support for 4 years, but the battle for our human rights and autonomy as a family rages on.

Ravaged by the battles of the last ten years, deteriorating health, worsening eye condition and overall wellbeing – life is edgy, a continuum of calculated risks and a struggle to keep the flame of hope alive.

Personal and Political Predictions

When I decided to write this, the intention definitely wasn’t to document this overview of the last 20+ years of my life, but that is what has manifested.

9/11 was the firing gun into this volatile century.  The invasion into Iraq was the prequel to where we now stand – poised on the brink of yet another conflict born out of the first one.

The earth has not only taken a baking from the rath of humans and their lust for convenience, comfort and an artificial environment, it has tilted rightward on it’s axis – causing the backward flow of hate, nationalism and xenophobia, like  toxic hot molten lava.

Upon moving to a small progressive city, I visited, researched it and made connections.

I did what I intended to do, which is join the Labour party (from the door on the left) but life progression has been slow.

At the very least, I think I have managed to not make the stupid impulsive leaps into hornet’s nests again.

We have been saddled with another 5 years of tyranny, austerity and a drain of power from common people to the ruling class.

My personal war with Sheffield city council is a microcosm of the constant political stand-offs or ensuing battles within our own little island nations.

So is it Mary Armageddon or jolly apocalypse?

I’m definitely not a Christian and certainly not your archetypal blind sooth sayer, but most tentatively the latter.

I do believe the world is rapidly self-destructing and will come to some sort of end in its current state.

What once was wrong: blatant lies, manipulating outcomes or imprisoning children because of their land-origin; glorifying in, or the celebration of autocracy, punishing the poor or disadvantaged – silencing whistle blowers, I could go on, but it has all become “the norm”.

By the same token what is now seemingly wrong: anyone with integrity, the will to help poor or disadvantaged people; a quest for the truth, reason-ability or equality and they are hounded and hated by the media.  An advocate for the poor, injustice and the truth, will be choked by those he/she attempts to hold accountable or scorned by the very people desperate for help.

Jeremy Corbyn is the latest example of someone falling victim to the Arthur Scargill treatment

Maryanne Gordon of London, a good friend, describes this kind of media distruction or vilification as: “Scargillised.”

People will argue that Corbyn isn’t a victim, but I would argue he has been for the last 4 years of leading the opposition, a victim of the times we’re living in.

Journalism is after all, not just about delivering the news anymore, it’s about pitching from which side the so-called gate-keeper is on.

Dare I predict this polarising game will continue until something comes to a head – so will it be a natural environmental disaster, like some huge earthquake or the political fallout of a nuclear war?

There’s still so much I want to do: land a part-time job to support my freelance journalism pursuits, keep active making a difference, excelling within the Labour party and most importantly, give my son what he wants, more autonomy and a  better quality of life.

So I’ve resolved to sit tight with vidulent insight as maybe we all should.  Ending within the spirit of anti-sentiments belted out by Neil Young in ’89 on the cusp of a new decade:

“We got a thousand points of light
For the homeless man
We got a kinder, gentler,
Machine gun hand
We got department stores
and toilet paper
Got Styrofoam boxes
for the ozone layer
Got a man of the people,
says keep hope alive
Got fuel to burn,
got roads to drive.
Keep on rockin’ in the free world.”

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A MOVEMENT IN MOURNING

By Dawn M. Sanders

My heart is crying, my head awash – is integrity and all
that is good in society broken?

One week on from the general election where Labour, the
party I have chosen based on its values, hemorrhaged
what we should have gained.

On election night, I stocked up on wine and cooked a good
enough dinner to get me through the night.
Every election night, I tend to stay up listening to the results roll in
amid the commentary on social media and whatever crackpot TV is being dealt
those of us awaiting results in heightened anticipation, rather than resolving
to wait until it all comes out in the wash in the morning.  .

When the exit
polls came in and they seemingly were burying the thing before it hatched I
thought, ‘this is outrageous they’ve hardly have had a first actual result yet.

I soon nodded off and came to about 3-somethinga.m.  Twitter seemed to dry up – I didn’t make
heads or tales in my half slumbered
state, as I sank back into an induced fog not wanting to really make heads or tales of what I suspected to be unravelling.

6o’clock came and I fully woke up, what was happening?

All I heard was “Labour is finished” from my TV and then it
dawned on me.

I knew it was going to be bad all the next day, but not as
bad as it eventually came to light.

I slept most of that next day, giving my new volunteer
pursuit a miss.

Shellshocked

Everyone but everyone at the very least expected a hung
parliament.  The campaign had been one
big mud bath of lies and heated debates with Corbyn shining through and Johnson
stammering and BS-ing his way through, yet when
people still dubbed him as ‘more prime ministerial’ it was jaw dropping, so
something was wrong, really wrong!

On the surface, Corbyn seemed to draw the largest crowds, as
he did in the 2017 election.

Like Theresa May, Boris Johnson did the whole repetitive
mantra of “Get Brexit done” which, not only quickly lost it’s luster, it was clear he was concerned with little else – in
denial on the NHS, blatantly showing the world he couldn’t care less about
the climate crisis, never mind flood
victims or children
in poverty.

His efforts during the campaign were minimalist, lazy and
almost of a ‘can’t be bothered’ mentality, yet the polls were biased even
before disastrous debates.

The now all-too-familiar cycle of vilifying Jeremy Corbyn
continued, but so did Corbyn’s failure to hit back or defend himself.

Throughout his 4 year tenure as leader of the Labour party,
not once did he seek legal action against the BBC or right-wing tabloids for
their continuing smear campaign – had he done so even once, his life might have
been that bit easier, he might have commanded more respect among his
adversaries, but it is sadly too little too late for all the could have beens or if onlys.

In the immediate days following the shocking result, as
truths came flying out of pent up frustrations and anguish following the
campaign with a hit list of shortcomings, Corbyn had been on
the edge of stepping down and giving up.

Where was the focus, the real zeal and opportunities
abandoned to simply take the government down or expose them?

The façade of enthusiasm, overly-ambitious
manifesto and lack of clarity, was enough to be the beginning of the end for a
leader so much of us have been so proud of.

So I have spent most of this week
dwelling in my poorly heated home, walking to and fro
or just sitting in utter disbelief.

How, why, why, why?

Because: too many people ‘just didn’t like Corbyn’ yet
couldn’t say why or see beyond the slow deliberate brainwashing of the media;

Because Brexit isn’t some black and white thing the
electorate can just neatly put into a box of either remain or leave;

Because Corbyn is just too soft, wet or nice, but mainly
just trying to help the poor and make the top percent more accountable;

Because Johnson is a known and outright liar who can’t
string together a sentence, but that’s okay?

Because the ruling elite will clasp their jaws on anything
to discredit an imperfect yet decent man and feed on the media-magnified issue
of
anti-semitism, ignoring their own racist and xenophobic sentiment and
hostilities paraded in plain view for all to see?

The injustices, the dirty tactics abound.  One man could not only assume the position of
under dog,
but endure being beaten back for so long – Corbyn has done his time.

The blame game keeps revisiting the notion that the north
has been neglected for far too long, yet not only is this a cliché, it is one
that completely ignores the fact that, the Tories have been in power nearly a
decade and have perpetuated that neglect.

Has the
HS2 project come to fruition?  Have
post-industrial towns and former mining villages truly recovered?

No of course they haven’t, but the right-wing agenda has
successfully steered away the Labour heartlands from all of these issues, maybe
they have become immuned, but Brexit has been the
eclipsing factor in a polarised society as the rest of Europe looks on in
bemusement toward the island of eejits.

The Russia Report and Voter rigging

When it came to light that a report based on external
interference by Russia
into British elections was being withheld by Boris Johnson I became
worried, because of what was at stake pre-election, the high hopes we all had
on the left and how close we well, could have been to victory.

It has already been public knowledge how Russia allegedly
interfered into
the 2016 US election or highly plausible how there was Russian interference
in the Brexit result of that same year.

So, once the
Russia Report had stuck its head just far enough out of the ground to make
itself known, I felt compelled to do something.
Despite Corbyn and other opposition leaders asking what Johnson had to
hide, the demands lacked continuity and the same rigor as
Corbyn drew on leaked documents surrounding the NHS and secret talks
between Trump and Johnson regarding
trade deals which would see the NHS sold off to American private
companies.

So I decided to embark on a change.org petition to help
demand the release of the dossier, but it was futile in the face of a frenzied,
chaotic campaign .

Post-election and Johnson has to his convenience, agreed to
release the report, so I’m baffled, not only with the result of this election,
but by the outright blatant interference which has without a doubt just
cemented a huge Tory majority, yet no one is questioning?

The writing was on the wall, but no one was looking…

Broken

As parliament reconvened and a reinvigorated, swaggering,
smirking Johnson reaffirmed the mantras of the last 5 weeks to his new and
existing power base, a broken Jeremy Corbyn, as the final slaying was laid bear
with angry unseated MPs, a demoralised membership and stunned survivors of the
election, sauntered to the front of the chamber to apologise to those who lost
their seats and congratulated his opponent in true humility.  I was heart broken
for him, for us and for the millions of kids that will still live in poverty.

I ache for those sleeping out on the streets, because their
lives collectively will be overlooked and trashed as they have been for the
last 9 years.

A Personal Blow

Naturally, I look inward and to my own private hell and how
my family has suffered the ‘other racism’ under the Tory’s hostile environment.

Where those of us who are ‘different’ disenfranchised or
marginalised with visible/invisible challenges, face systemic injustice and are
treated like the under-class in the last bastion of social prejudice.

My hopes and dreams of being able to experience the lifting
of the hostile environment, so I could approach applying for full citizenship, enableing me to run for public office, have now been dashed
– at least for another 5 long years.

What’s To Come?

Well, if like me, you have been terrified for the
environment in lack of decisive action by particularly right-wing governments
of developed countries who favour big corporation over the planet or human
wellbeing, guess what – it’s not going to change.

If you have experienced the right  to a free health service, enjoy it
while we still have it, because it is probably the beginning of its demise.

If your child has had a shortage of supplies at school or
you are having trouble putting food on the table – get used to it, because with
all of these things and many other social and economic failings of the last
near decade, it seemingly is what those who voted the Tories back with a
vengeance thrive upon.

As the uncertainty of a hard Brexit looms and facing
whatever repercussions it brings will test our endurance – for those who switch
to the other side, it will be ‘there tern’ to do the reflecting and
soul-searching!

No politician is perfect.
At the end of the day politicians are human, influenced to the tune of
different ideologies or flags.

People often complain of the corruption of those elected to
power, yet when one comes along who, truly wants to make a difference, cares
about the poor or stands up for his convictions against the grain as Corbyn has,
people become intoxicated with a loathing which was cultivated out of hate and
spite.

Corbyn was never a match for the vicious venom-spewing
snakes and vipers in parliament or their external influencers.

He was routinely vilified, hounded and harassed by the
media, opposing figures within the Labour party and finally crucified by an
ideology that kills, considers people by the colour of their skin or within the
class hierarchy of the pecking order.

We are a movement in mourning, but already there are those
seeking Solis through a new beginning, a kind of ‘try again’ or which new
leader will bring us victory and a brighter future

I still feel bereaved.

My heart is crying, my head awash – is integrity and all
that is good in society broken along with Jeremy and our movement?

Corbyn has been the embodiment of integrity and all that is
good in society, which is why thousands have joined Labour under his guidance.

Will Labour lurch like a reactionary pendulum in the
opposite direction, just to gain power?

Keir
Starmer, Shadow Brexit Secretary, is right in his
voice of reason, ‘we need to stand proud of our values, stop the in-fighting
and just be who we are again’.

By Dawn M. Sanders

With all the botched handlings of Brexit and trying to get a bad deal through that would never satisfy pro-leave or pro-remain supporters when it comes to exiting the EU, not to mention the shabby way this government has handled domestic issues such as benefits cuts, the amount of people now using food banks, the Grenfell Tower fire, cuts in public services, an ailing NHS and the list goes on.  Any opposition party should have capitalised on the failings of the Tories.

With the all-prevailing issue of Brexit over-stepping or more accurately, in tandem with domestic worries, it was naturally predicted to be an annihilation of Tories on council seats.  The annihilation happened, to the tune of them losing over 1,300 seats – amounting to losing control of 45 councils.

Despite defeats for both main political parties, the above article highlights the Foreign Secretary’s and Shadow Chancellor’s short sightedness in surmising the results were the voters simplistically saying, ‘sort Brexit’ but no it’s about democracy, stupid…

As a member of the Labour party, it was all too easy to think, ‘this is it, here’s our chance’ but hang on, Jeremy Corbyn kept ping-ponging on whether or not there should or could be a second referendum, which is the growing appetite of the party and large swathes of the country.

For those of us who know the realities of how the electorate mind works in black and white and how one is either for or against a certain key and defining set of policies, Brexit in this case – the most polarising dilemma in peace time British history, a leader cannot say: “We’ll implement this, but only if that or the other happens.”

So, the bloody nose delivered to Labour in the local elections can only amount to an ‘I told you so’ sigh of utter frustration.

It is only those of us who can be bothered to analyse Corbyn’s logic and clumsy strategy, who might be willing to grant him patience against a backdrop of growing dissatisfaction of his leadership.

Whereas, other more outright pro-remain parties have just said, ‘yes, lets have another people’s vote and get on with it – because these smaller often more pragmatic parties know people just want it kept simple, clear and decisive.

The lack of clarity and hope to please both brexiteers and Remainers has severely bruised Labours chances of success in a general election.

As it was rightfully pointed out the other day by a news commentator – if it was a general election, it would have been hung, yes in several directions.

For all of my support and respect of Corbyn, I now am losing patience and think he is obstructing the opportunity to make real headway and the change that is so desperately needed.

Okay, so Labour didn’t lose as many seats or councils as the Tories i.e. 63 seats amounting to 4 councils (according to the Guardian article above) but the party is losing members and credibility.

It’s getting harder to justify or argue his position, when actually it’s becoming down right embarrassing.

The EU elections are another kettle of fish, but could still result in a patchwork of agendas and ideologies.

The Tories will be annihilated there again, because they don’t want to stand members of European Parliament (MEP’s) in the first place.

I am much less clued up on the European elections, so I won’t elaborate here, but from what I have gathered on my close monitoring of the whole heaving mess, is the Conservative possibles for MEP will be hardcore Brexiteers who would seek to create as much disruption as they can muster along with Nigel Farage’ creation,  the Brexit party.

The coming weeks could be seismic, but because the British don’t do Greek-style revolts or even French-style rebellions, it will be a slow but deliberate earthquake on the landscape of British politics.

© 2019

POST LOCAL ELECTIONS FALLOUT

By Dawn M. Sanders

With all the botched handlings of Brexit and trying to get a bad deal through that would never satisfy pro-leave or pro-remain supporters when it comes to exiting the EU, not to mention the shabby way this government has handled domestic issues such as benefits cuts, the amount of people now using food banks, the Grenfell Tower fire, cuts in public services, an ailing NHS and the list goes on. Any opposition party should have capitalised on the failings of the Tories.
With the all-prevailing issue of Brexit over-stepping or more accurately, in tandem with domestic worries, it was naturally predicted to be an annihilation of Tories on council seats. The annihilation happened, to the tune of them losing over 1,300 seats – amounting to losing control of 45 councils.

Despite defeats for both main political parties, the above article highlights the Foreign Secretary and Shadow Chancellor short sightedness in surmising the results were the voters simplistically saying, ‘sort Brexit’ but no it’s about democracy, stupid…

As a member of the Labour party, it was all too easy to think, ‘this is it, here’s our chance’ but hang on, Jeremy Corbyn kept ping-ponging on whether or not there should or could be a second referendum, which is the growing appetite of the party and large swathes of the country.
For those of us who know the realities of how the electorate mind works in black and white and how one is either for or against a certain key and defining set of policies, Brexit in this case – the most polarising dilemma in peace time British history, a leader cannot say: “We’ll implement this, but only if that or the other happens.”
So, the bloody nose delivered to Labour in the local elections can only amount to an ‘I told you so’ sigh of utter frustration.
It is only those of us who can be bothered to analyse Corbyn’s logic and clumsy strategy, who might be willing to grant him patience against a backdrop of growing dissatisfaction of his leadership.
Whereas, other more outright pro-remain parties have just said, ‘yes, lets have another people’s vote and get on with it – because these smaller often more pragmatic parties know people just want it kept simple, clear and decisive.
The lack of clarity and hope to please both brexiteers and Remainers has severely bruised Labours chances of success in a general election.
As it was rightfully pointed out the other day by a news commentator – if it was a general election, it would have been hung, yes in several directions.

For all of my support and respect of Corbyn, I now am losing patience and think he is obstructing the opportunity to make real headway and the change that is so desperately needed.
Okay, so Labour didn’t lose as many seats or councils as the Tories i.e. 63 seats amounting to 4 councils (according to the Guardian article above) but the party is losing members and credibility.
It’s getting harder to justify or argue his position, when actually it’s becoming down right embarrassing.

The EU elections are another kettle of fish, but could still result in a patchwork of agendas and ideologies.
The Tories will be annihilated there again, because they don’t want to stand members of European Parliament (MEP’s) in the first place.
I am much less clued up on the European elections, so I won’t elaborate here, but from what I have gathered on my close monitoring of the whole heaving mess, is the Conservative possibles for MEP will be hardcore Brexiteers who would seek to create as much disruption as they can muster along with Nigel Farage’ creation, the Brexit party.

The coming weeks could be seismic, but because the British don’t do Greek-style revolts or even French-style rebellions, it will be a slow but deliberate earthquake on the landscape of British politics.

© 2020

LABOUR PARTY CONFERENCE 2019: Just in Case You Missed It

By Dawn M. Sanders

“The cause of Labour is the hope of the world.” Shadow Chancellor John McDonnell

As I discovered last year at my first Labour Party Conference, it is a hot bed of passion, opinions (often clashing) and over all a beacon of hope in the dark times we live in.

So, as conference was taking place in my old hometown of Brighton, where my son was born, pagan and political seeds were sewn, I jumped at the chance to attend this year despite financial constraints.

My assistant and I checked into a cosy, friendly Airbnb and got a local train straight to The World Transformed (TWT) HQ which was a tent that had been erected in Brighton’s Old Stein Gardens. We arrived to find a crowd anticipating the opening speech by a young woman who had experienced the gig economy in the form of poor pay, stressful long hours and poor working conditions, yet with fierce campaigning her situation improved. Her speech crediting the Labour party of its stance on zero hours contracts was followed by a speech delivered at breakneck speed by Jeremy Corbyn and the whole place was buzzing.

Under Currents

Despite the external festival-like vibe, internal conflict had arisen within the Labour party during a motion passed by Momentum’s John Lansman, on the eve of conference. The motion sought to oust the post of Deputy Leader Tom Watson as his position as staunchly remain which was felt to potentially threaten the careful positioning on Brexit by Jeremy Corbyn and senior shadow cabinet members. After 2 votes the motion fell, seemingly achieving little apart from a storm of media sensationalism.

Highlights

Fringe events at the conference are always the meat and muscle of the programme, as workshops are thought-provoking, generate healthy debate and inform members and supporters on policy. There are always simply too many things going on at once to see it all.

There was a workshop on special education, a ‘what to expect’ exclusive for first-time conference goers, an abundance of workshops on climate change (including what was scheduled from the main hall on Labour’s Green New Deal) – likewise as one would expect, with Brexit and its many debates. I attended a complex workshop on the issue of left-wing parties throughout Europe and whether they did or did not align. The meeting on transport, long distance and local, was an opportunity to engage and share ideas as we were put into groups. David Lammy MP led an educated perspective on the legalisation of cannabis and how Labour would take a measured and regulated approach.

One of the best highlights for me was seeing the previewed showing of ‘Sorry, We Missed You’ a Ken Loach produced, page out of every day life and one family’s struggle with the casualization of work and its cruel exploitation.

There were rallies, key motions voted upon (such as the plight of migrant women as addressed at the Labour Women’s conference in February) manifesting in emotional mini-speeches from the floor. There were ambitious key speeches, such as John McDonnell, setting out a clear agenda for a Labour government and reiterating Labour’s stance on Brexit. McDonnell ended his speech with the Socialist sentiment: “The cause of Labour is the hope of the world.”

Fractious

Like any politically-charged atmosphere, the conference was laden with tension and opposing opinions. Walking along the crowded pavement outside the Brighton Centre, was some times argumentative, ‘Don’t point in my face’ someone said. Another day walking past and a young man shouted, ‘the EU is scum!’ For the most part though, people seemingly kept their cool.

By Tuesday, when the anticipated news broke that the Prime Minister acted unlawfully by proroguing parliament, as handed down by the supreme court – reaction was swift, with Jeremy Corbyn moving his final speech forward to that afternoon as parliament would reconvene the next day.

With such a big development announced during the last full day of Labour party conference, ensuing energies heightened and everyone was possibly reminded why we were there and what we stood for.

One week on from the conference and events are moving by the hour. As the Tories FINISH   their conference in Manchester – the strongest remain vote in the north, the nation must brace itself for the inevitable – whatever that might be.

© 2019

THE PERILS OF VISUAL IMPAIRMENT: The School of Hard Knee Knocks

By Dawn M. Sanders

I hope you don’t read this and think, ‘awe you poor thing’, – never! It has to be said though, the perils of visual impairment can be lethal and usually when you least expect it.

Last night I was going out to my local One-Stop shop and booked a taxi to go down and come straight back up to where I live.
I know where the shop is and walk there all the time, but as a woman I don’t do walking on my own at night, even in my neighbourhood, which is really safe.

So, I was rushing to get the taxi, because the shop was going to shut in half an hour, but it takes 2 minutes in a cab, 2 to be in the shop and no time to get back – so I wasn’t worried about the time.
However, in my haste, I went crashing into the new flower bed they put in on my estate, which is in an awkward corner where I used to just follow the grass line to either stand and wait for a taxi at the top of the steep hill I live on or walk down to the bus stop.
I stopped to look at the geraniums and pretty purple flowered plants they put into the new flowerbed after filling it with bags of soil the other day, so I knew the sodding thing was there and in fact I slowed a tad to negotiate it, but it was too late.
I met the flowerbed with both knees and fell flat on my butt!
It’s okay if you wonna laugh – I’m laughing now writing this…
Last night though, it wasn’t funny and I sat there on the ground glad that no one was around.

Where I live on the edge of my small city, next to fields in suburbia on the edge of Exeter is so quiet at night especially, you can hear the grass grow, so I was the only living being stirring at the time.
I could feel the pain welling up in my left knee and I had grazed my right one and there was a new small whole in my leggings.
I slowly got up and walked to the top of the hill where I always wait for the taxi.
I stood there in the chilly night air in the silence, as the time ticked on.
The shop shut at 11 and at a quarter to 11 I thought, ‘this is a joke why aren’t they here yet’?
5 minutes later my cab turned up, just before I was going to walk back to the flat and give up.

The driver was apologetic, but by the time I just got in the door before closing, it was too late to get what I wanted.
So, my last fiver went down the toilet on a flaming taxi along with banged up knees – not my idea of an enjoyable evening.

Should I have ventured out?
Life is full of should’ve, could’ve, would haves.
Should I have bothered?
Absolutely but, if I could have set out earlier, I would have avoided rushing to get a taxi, probably avoiding clobbering myself on a damn flowerbed and the whole bloody mission ‘would have been accomplished’.

Awe well, what the hell – not much keeps me down without getting right back up again in true defiance of life’s hard knocks – even at the knees!
😊