Friday 23 August 2024

Dear Matt Bishop

Dear Matt Bishop,


Congratulations on your election as my MP. 

In

I am writing to express my deepest disappointment in the Chancellor’s economically illiterate decision to subject the economy to unnecessary fiscal rules, and to compound the error by threatening cuts that will inevitably impoverish those already struggling: pensioners, families with children, and people in receipt of social security benefits. This is Osborne economics, not social democracy, and will inevitably lead to further hardship amongst your constituents. 


Unsurprisingly, the cabinet are blocking the publication of data on the effect of austerity, but fortunately there is data already in the public domain collected by the Hiuse of Lords. 


https://lordslibrary.parliament.uk/mortality-rates-among-men-and-women-impact-of-austerity/


There have been over 300,000 excess deaths since 2009 as a direct result of a deliberate choice by the Tory government  to impose austerity. It is scandalous that a Labour Government, with access to a fiat currency, and therefore the freedom to finance any choices it decides to make, should continue along this path: a government killing its own citizens. 


Was an impact assessment done on the changes to the Winter Fuel Payment? Will there one be done on the proposed cuts in the October budget?


Might your constituents at least expect that you will monitor these impacts in the Forest of Dean? 



Yours sincerely,


Mary Francis 


Former Chair 

Newent Branch of The Labour Party 

Monday 12 August 2024

A Moment In Eternity

 My first thought on picking this title was to laugh at the pretention. Who am I to freeze the eternal, and leave it here, obscurely, where no one but you will discover it, raise an eyebrow, and move right along, living your own succession of moments: a crescendo of little things exploding eventually into nothingness? 

Sorry I couldn’t imagine more. 

I’m at a kitchen table, not mine. I’m attending to my grandchildren, Frank aged eight, Alfie, six, who do not need me. They’re playing games on their electronic devices, very happily, interacting with their virtual worlds and with each other.

The cottage pie in the oven isn’t demanding anything of me either:I estimate I’ll not need to attend to it until I’ve finished this blog post. 

The washing is entering into its spin cycle:what’s left of this blazing day will dry it.

I’ve just noticed the tractor in the adjacent field has stopped. I caught a glimpse through the bushy laurel, it appeared to be grass cutting. I suspected earthmoving in preparation for the next acre of homes, but it appears not. Yet.

There you are, I’m finished. A perfect moment in its inanity, it’s glorious ordinariness. Looking forward, were I gifted a second moment here in fifteen years’ time, I will smile I think, as I remember an afternoon with ordinary chores in a white kitchen, in a new house, when two grown men were little boys. 

Sunday 7 April 2024

The Number 32 Bus

 The Number 32 bus for Newent, leaves the transport hub in Gloucester, at 20 minutes to the hour, every hour. Today, after buying a coffee  and a native delicacy known as a, "Gloucester Drip," for sustenance, I boarded the aforementioned vehicle at 12:40. Waved my bus pass over the card reader, and headed for the front seat on the upper deck. I paused a moment, noting that it was a sunny afternoon, and I needed to recall which side of the aisle I needed to veer to, to avoid being roasted. I veered the wrong way. Should you ever find yourself in this dilemma, go right. 

It was the perfect day for sight-seeing. Rolling down memory lane,the bus  carried me past the farm where fifty-five years ago, I picked blackcurrants: five shillings a bucket. Three buckets a day. A Guinea was good money back then.... William came with me once, but he was a hindrance. Not a lot of fruit-picking happened that day.

We were risk-takers, and that's all I'm going to say on the matter. 

In those days, before gang-masters and health and safety, the farmers would send rickety old coaches, some pre-war, I swear, into the housing estates, to be boarded by mothers, their offspring, and teens out for adventure and pocket-money. We'd be collected around 8am and be returned just after 4pm. tired and triumphant, clutching our well-gotten gains. 

The farm now grows pumpkins, and runs events during school holidays for bored kids. 

I see the low-lying fields near the Severn are flooded. I hear it's been the wettest March for ever, or was it a decade? Some time, anyway. 

Highnam village is the first stop. It's big enough to have a Manor House and a neogothic church designed by Pugin who also, I believe, had a hand in the Palace of Westminster. I visited it once. Very ornate, possibly artsy crafty, definitely mock- medieval.

I expect Ivor Gurney played the organ there, but you'd have to check. I'd love to hear 1662 evensong sitting in an ornate pew, or down on an art-deco kneeler, but I doubt that happens now, and besides I'm Catholic, and we don't, "err and stray like lost sheep," we get straight to the point, and SIN. 

When were you last privileged to take the best seat on a double- decker? I'd advise you give it a go! Peering over hedge tops into wooded gardens, fulfilled the nosey-Parker urge, and the views over the countryside, Malvern Hills to the right of me, and the Cotswolds behind me, cannot be enjoyed from a car, even if you're not driving it. Wonderful. 

Fifteen minutes in, skirting Tibberton at Barber's Bridge, I remember the tiring walk up the hill to my home, and I call my husband, with a request to pick me up from the bench outside the lbrary, claiming, "Heavy Shopping." To my amazement, he agrees.

There's a monument at Barber's Bridge to, " The Welsh of Lord Herbert's Force who fell in the combined attack of Sir William Waller and Colonel Massey on their entrenchment at Highnam March 24, 1643."

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With a touching irony, the monument is constructed from the stones of the walls of the City of Gloucester, that they would have attempted to take, and that King Charles II ordered torn down after returning from exile. 

According to which is probably a Civil War legend, the Parliamentary Army  led by Col Massey, stopped here to get shaved, before a skirmish with Lord Herbert's Welshmen, creating mayhem  and resulting in the (possibly accidental) burning down of the parish church.

The troops were drunk, I believe. 

Passing through Highnam I see the tower of Pauntley Church in the near distance. Pauntley is the hamlet which is famous for the fact that Dick Whittington left it, and I was headteacher of its school for thirteen years. 1996-2009.

Upleadon next. There's a garage here, and a turning to Hartpury, where there is a magnificent ancient tithe barn, and a medieval bee shelter. 

We're rolling along apace now. There are sheep in the fields in season, and solar farms. Ten minutes to Newent.

The 32 pulls up outside the library, on time, and here's Ray, parked up a whole waiting to drive me up the hill and home. 


Thursday 21 March 2024

An Extraordinary Day

My day began with prayer. 

I guess this is a little old-fashioned for many … but I pray the modern way - on an App: “Pray As You Go.” 


It’s 6:30, and I realise if I’m quick, I can get myself down to Broad St and join the manager of The Ark Coffee Shop (A faith-based enterprise) when she opens up at 7am for Christ-time, a word I picked because I don’t want to use “prayer” twice in one go. 

Annie wasn’t there, so I headed off round Newent Lake,on a walking meditation. Another get-around for the P word  again. 

My soul becalmed, I took myself back to the cafe and spent a wonderful hour gossiping the gospel with Annie, mulling over our thoughts and failings with the connivance of the Holy Spirit. 

Well set-up for the task ahead, viz to lead a Bible Study on Christ’s Passion, I walked home, completing my day’s allocation of Steps, to prepare. 

I took a detour behind Culver St along Peacock Brook with the Cornell Bird App open and recording, it was an amazingly productive 8 minutes:











I used another App (YouTube) to download Scott Hahn’s talk, “The Fourth Cup.” Easiest prep for a Bible Study ever. 

“Now that, friends is a Bible Study,” I remarked on closing the Mac, deeming that to be the only comment needed. Well worth an hour of your time, if you’re so inclined. 


Home to cook lunch, then relax with Netflix and a wonderful spy story, “Gray.” Many of the seven deadly sins appear in every episode, but I reckon I’ve acquired sufficient Holy Brownie Points to be excused a penance.