#Thread 1/5
People talk about #CentristDads as if we are a species of gently apologetic marsupials.
But we are not.
The centre, as conceived as a position between left and right, no longer exists.
The extremes today are truth and untruth and I am an extremist for truth.
2/5 And like many extremists, my extremism is fuelled by anger.
I am angry at the abandonment of even the pretence that politicians are driven by anything other than the rankest self-interest and lust for power.
3/5 I am furious that the Labour Party I have voted for all my life has offered no opposition to a pitiful government on the one great issue of state of our time.
I am betrayed by the cowardice of men and women who speak for nothing but the cause of their own re-election.
4/5 I despair of the thuggish, weaselly, whining opposition of Corbyn and McDonnell as much as I do of the rapacious, venal, wilfully destructive government of May and Fox, and the bullying krypto-fascists Rees-Mogg, Redwood and their cohorts lurking behind them.
5/5 I am ashamed that the BBC no longer holds power to account but pursues a fraudulent balance which equates lies and truth and elevates opinion over fact.
I am sick of being preached at, patronised and told that the will of the people must be honoured.
I am one of the people.
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I have a manuscript written in the early 1820s by a clergyman named Robert Fiske. It’s a long, terrible poem called ‘The Seasons’.
So, for a small adventure, I’m going to Fulbourn, near Cambridge, to see the church where he ministered for 45 years.
Then I’m cycling home.
2/ First stop, @hotnumbers in Gwydir Street for breakfast with @RobertHanks then, via Cherry Hinton Brook and Fulbourn windmill, to St Vigor’s, Fulbourn, where Fiske was rector from 1781 to 1826.
Excellent tomb there (not Fiske’s, obv).
On, on.
3/ The next section, from Fulbourn to Saffron Walden started with the pleasure of a Roman road, between Babraham and Linton, through the swell of the Gogmagog Hills (no giants, though, @alixebovey) and then the glorious swoop of north Essex after Hadstock.
6/ St Paul’s, Bow Common, had the door open to air the church so I took a look inside to see Charles Lutyens’ mosaics in Maguire and Murray’s amazing building. Thank you so much to Mother Bernadette (and Julian) for making me welcome.
7/ After that it was a bit of a race: past Dod Street, where I worked at the DHSS in the 80s; St Luke’s Victoria Dock, like a great upturned ship; across the Royal Docks and past Tate & Lyle.
8/ The last leg was crossing the river at the Woolwich ferry, which is a treat if you do it on a bike once in a while but a bit of a nightmare if you have to queue every day in a van. After that, Greenwich and a welcome drink.
1/ I stripped the bike to the bearings yesterday and now it’s cleaned and rebuilt, so today I’m out in the sunshine.
New stickers courtesy @UGClimbing and @hgskate with thanks.
2/ First stop, haberdashery: the brilliant @williamgeeUK, in Dalston, for sewing supplies. Thanks for your help.
3/ London Fields for some of the best plane trees in the whole city.
#Cummings
Sitting down, in the garden, like a man who’s chosen an amusing ‘outdoor’ Zoom background.
Sitting down at no.10 and explaining how, because he has a farm with three houses, it was fine for him to drive to Durham, with a family sick with Covid-19.
The rest is just a long, whiny, indignant story that says, ‘I did nothing wrong and you’re all mean’.