Mark Blackstock

November 20th 1961 – August 3rd 21017

So, we’ll go no more a roving
So late into the night,
Though the heart be still as loving,
And the moon be still as bright.

Trust in me

Even when a mature democracy becomes a little dog-eared around the edges and the very definition of democracy presents wear and tear in more urgent need of refurbishment than a crumbling Palace of Westminster, the basic premise of the relationship between the governed and the government is based almost entirely on trust.

Consider who one should trust in a head-to-head between David Davis and Michel Barnier. Obviously Barnier is foreign so trust is at a premium but balance that against David Davis who is an idiot. After three rounds of negotiation, the likelihood of a smooth breakfast is further away than ever and Davis bumbles about without any semblance of a clue, a plan or an ounce of credibility. It could, of course, be an elaborate bluff with Davis killing time in the hope those who voted leave combust with anger at the lack of progress or simply die of old age. That would make Davis a genius but such a concept requires an awful lot of trust.

What?

For all the splendid times had by all and all the new adventures and happy holiday memories, returning back home after travelling far, far away is a journey of dark foreboding. The ride from the airport is by far the worst. Did I lock the back door? Was the grill turned off after that last hurried breakfast? Who checked the upstairs 13A sockets? What monstrously large and unexpected bill lays waiting in the mountain of junk mail? Before considering what horrors await in emails or on answer phone, the irrational fear of burglary has to be conquered and the nagging lack of confidence in well-meaning yet eccentric neighbourly cat feeders had to be overcome.

Poached sushi

Raw sushi

When, on a cold and frosty morning, a car refuses to start when being late is simply not an option or the first intestinal rumblings indicate that the recently consumed piece of fish might have spent too long in the fridge, hope rapidly follows faith down the pan when it comes to being confident in having a mythical good day. No amount of de-icer or splashes of Wasabe can disguise the struggle in acquisition or the irredeemable loss when trust blows a gasket or crawls off the plate in search of greener pastures. The futility of bemoaning bad luck as being unfair can have no better example of wasting time than that of analysing the current government`s approach to governance, its notion of fairness and the Prime Minister`s definition of the words “strong and stable”.

Tragedy

Via ITN.com

It is conceivable that during the early hours of last Wednesday morning returning from a game of football between France and England in Paris the previous evening, Prime Minister Theresa May on final approach to RAF Northolt might have glanced out of the window and witnessed flames lighting up the night sky above West London. Later, as her motorcade sped along the A40, perhaps her thoughts on England`s woeful defensive performance against 10 men were disturbed by the smell of acrid smoke. Then on the Westway, the burning cladding blowing across the carriageway might just have distracted her mind from what she needs to bribe the Democratic Unionist Party with in order to prolong her stay in Downing Street. We may never know at precisely what point, if indeed at all, she considered the game was well and truly up.