Seats & Chairs

Hello dear readers!

Well what a week that was!

It may be a long time in politics, and certainly that particular topic was at the forefront of a lot of peoples minds this week. Especially for those of us in the UK. On a more personal front it’s also been eventful due to a few difficulties of the mobility kind.

But first lets go delve a little deeper into the murky world of Westminster.

X Marks The Spot

It’s rare that a General Election such as this country faced on Thursday engenders such interest. That’s probably quite a sad statement, but unfortunately it’s true. There has all too often been an attitude among many of my friends and colleagues that voting gets you nowhere. That whoever you mark your little X alongside you’re just going to get a slightly different version of the same thing. A little like having the choice between different brands of economy toilet paper.

But something has changed. Jeremy Corbyn, love him or hate him, put forward a manifesto in this election that seemed, for the first time in a long time, fired the collective imagination of the electorate. To offer a real alternative, giving people a real choice. It was a choice that was seized upon by a huge amount of people and one that led to an election that was perhaps the most enthralling since Tony Blair’s victory in 1997. Even in the week leading up to the night there was an air of something happening; of a change in the air. The wind was in the east. The mist coming in Something was a-brewin and about to begin (bonus points if you get the film ref.)

Exit: Stage Left

Long term sufferers of this blog might just have picked up some small inkling of my own particular political leanings (See here for example). And anyone who has me on their Facebook friend list will almost certainly have had any lingering doubts dispelled. It was then, with great interest and a metaphorical spring in my metaphorical step that I absorbed the exit poll. My glee at Dominic Raab (a man who needs a high five... In the face... With a cricket bat... That’s been dipped in acid... And set on fire.) and Anne Widicombe (erm… Ditto) trying desperately to make out that the poll they had been eagerly waiting on for the last hour was incorrect, untrustworthy, and meant nothing (it was actually almost exactly right) was almost uncontainable. From that point the very, very (very) late night was pretty much nailed on.

I dreamt of victory that night. Dreamt that the Tory machine might be swept aside and with it the hateful, austerity driven erosion of our NHS, our social services, our worker’s rights, and the way we care for our country’s most vulnerable citizens. It was a dream that very nearly came true. Tory seats dropped like flies. Labour hoovering up a lot of these as well as those dropped by the UK Independence Party. Actually after not coming out of the election with even a single seat maybe that should be 'UK Independence After-Party'.

The Nastier Party

As I awoke on Friday morn, it was to the spectacle of Teresa May embroiled in the search for some creative way to cling on to power. Her majority was destroyed, the parliament hung, and party after party were turning her away. All of which meant that, with the help of a lot of horse trading, and possibly some sticky backed plastic, Ms May fell into bed with the DUP.

For those that didn’t contribute to the search results of the most googled political party of the year these are not particularly nice people. Widely connected with loyalist terrorism throughout the ‘troubles’ in Northern Ireland, the DUP hold a number of political ideals far removed from the mainstream of British politics. They are against a woman’s right to an abortion, oppose same-sex marriage and even same-sex relationships, and have called for a commons vote on bringing back the death penalty. As recently as 2016 MP Sammy Wilson seemed to give his support to ‘getting the ethnics out of Northern Ireland’ once Brexit has gone through that is, something that will now be handled by the Conservative and Unionist Negotiating Team. If only there were a handy acronym.

So that, or the moment, seems to be the future. A government who seem hell bent in classifying and marginalising disabled people, who seem to have no money to help the poorest in society but plenty for tax breaks to the rich, who want to tear down and sell of our NHS and who through this new partnership might actually be able to complete a royal flush of minorities to mistreat. Top hatted capitalists and child chimney sweeps here we come.

Wheel Change

But what of the mobility issue? I here none of you cry. Well in a startling analogy for the government my wheelchair is up on bricks. A broken front caster once again causing issues, as it did last year (See here) and, just to add to the woes, the back rest collapsing on a regular basis too. Very much like Mrs May this as left me leaning to the far right without any proper support. Due to the unique way our social care is underfunded, this has meant that, although reported for repair nearly to weeks ago, I am still awaiting the loving attention of wheelchair services (you just can’t get the parts you know), and this has left me quite literally spinning my wheels at home for the last three days. I can only hope that both myself and the country can find a more solid foundation for the future and that we can find someone with the necessary tools, ingenuity, and social conscience to come to our aid. Perhaps in at least one of those cases that person might just be Mr Corbyn. I’ll leave you to decide which.

Until next time...