Bond Street Or Bradford.
09/01/2006
Weather forecasts remain unreliable, with very changeable conditions, sunshine followed by heavy showers, winds from every point of the compass and with speeds between 3 and 30 miles per hour. Our temperature rarely tops 15 degrees, and although migratory birds are still with us, I see the first birch leaves swirling in the River Trollaigh, a definite autumnal feel about the glen. Of course, we may get an Indian Summer yet, and the true autumn reds and golds will not be with us until October.
I am bemused by the findings of a recently published government report; that the liberal immigration laws of the last few years have now led to a quantifiable change in British culture. The silly “Sir Humphreys” of Whitehall must be extremely batty not to have noticed this err now, as I believe that north of the English midlands there is not a white face to be seen and hardly a Christian church opens its doors on a Sunday. Some of the figures in the report are amazing like the 400,000 UK citizens that travel to Pakistan and back each year, or that the US department of homeland security now see young Asians from “Karachi on Thames” with UK passports as their greatest single threat. I am all for religious tolerance, however it ought to be a two way street, and I am fairly certain that the baronial extremities would be loped off instanter if I were to nail a crucifix to the door of my Kabul Kabin. I am afraid that I expect more consideration, respect and integration from our new citizens in the way of language, dress and the fostering of extremism, rightly or not, burkas and beards in Bond Street or Bradford still bother me.
Country Life magazine, not famous for their confrontational editorial stance, have surprisingly launched a vigorous campaign to promote the understanding of rural issues by city dwellers. There is even talk of creating “Rural Issues” as a subject in the national curriculum, I wonder if it will include “How to Shit in the Forest”, a simple skill lost to the young after the retirement of Baden Powell. Or perhaps a warning not to do anything too disastrous in Dalmally, where if one calls the emergency services and after talking to an answering machine in Scunthorpe, one may wait an hour or two for the service of your choice to come to your aid. The downgrading of services to the country dweller irritates me, but we are all resigned to it. However it would be a comfort to know that the city dweller might understand what it is like to live without TV, Broadband, Mobile Phones, Schools, Hospitals, GP’s, roads etc. Whilst gathering around the steam radiogram for a few crackling words of world news on Radio 4 Long Wave (a delight soon to be lost in the digital age) and paying for the highest fuel prices in Europe. But the dears may at least learn where their food comes from. Hey ho, Yours aye, Archie, The Baron Trollaigh.