Lies, Cheating and Deceit

Right, then: lies,cheating, deceit, broken promises...that's politics for you! And that was my weekend-part of it, anyway.

I couldn't sleep on Thursday night. I've been an insomniac for years, and have never found a cure that didn't involve sleeping pills, which I refuse to take (I take enough pills already). So I took Valerian, which is herbal, supposed to help induce sleep, and I know several people who swear by it. Valerian, I discovered, keeps me awake. Go figure! So I was walking around and cleaning the bathroom at 2am. Now-I'm not an obsessive cleaner, I promise-I just couldn't think of anything else to do at that hour. Plus, my kitchen needed cleaning...

At 4am I switched on the news, and discovered that Scotland had voted against the referendum. It was close, but the no vote had the majority. So ends the possibility of independence for Scotland-and so began the anger, recriminations, accusations. It was reminiscent of American politics. I must admit that, as shocked as I was by the animosity and accusations of both camps, I was thoroughly enjoying it all (secretly, of course). We aren't the only ones who do a lot of mud slinging at voting time..thank goodness.

On Friday morning I trekked across London to Victoria Station to meet two Unitarians and go to a Unitarian conference in the Peak District. The countryside is supposed to be beautiful: rolling hills, lots of green, good walking country. So I met up with Kat, who is Scottish and was very upset at the final verdict, and was extremely vocal about it. I've been in this country long enough to understand her accent (heavy Scots accent, very pretty, I think-when I can understand what she is saying, and that is only part of the time).

It was a very long journey to a place I still call "Great Something-or-other"- because it took me a couple of days to get it right. You take a three and a half hour coach trip to Sheffield and turn left. Then you take a bus for another hour and end up in Great Something-or-other. Actually, it is Great Hucklow, but Great Something or other sounds more fun. Hucklow has no shops, no post office-just a pub (every village has at least one pub) and a small conference center. And it rained. And rained. And rained. Did I mention that it rained?

I met some very nice people there, and we talked a lot about the Scottish referendum. Kat's family - and a huge number of other Scots, too - have maintained that there was a lot of cheating and intimidation prior to the vote. Cameron, who is a dirtbag and a slimy crook anyway-went over to Scotland and told people that the banks would close and that they would lose their pensions. Apparently a lot of "no" voters were very, very threatening. And the count was fixed (sounds like Bush in Florida, doesn't it?). Kat was really angry. And the population over in Scotland is very split, with a great deal of antagonism on both sides. This rift will take some time to heal.

It took us five hours to get back to Victoria on Sunday night-the journey should have taken only three and a half hours, but traffic and roadworks delayed us really badly. So I ended up getting to bed well after midnight. Still recovering now...and on my way to Stanmore to see Mr. Skinner, who is going to do keyhole surgery on  my other leg next week. I am so very happy that I only have two legs! As long as I don't catapult myself down a flight of concrete steps and land knees first, I should be good to go for a few years. Hopefully.

I haven't checked my emails-so I don't know if my friend has issued an apology about the vicious and threatening email she wrote last week. But I am still kicking myself for feeling that I had to justify my actions. I don't have to justify myself to anyone; I haven't done anything wrong. Even writing it all down in this blog-well, was I justifying myself or just clarifying my position? Hmmm... have to think about that one.

I do know one thing: I will never write a nasty email to a friend (unless I really want to end the friendship) without thinking carefully first, and without reading what I've written a few times before I hit the send button. Once you hit the send button, you can't ever take back what you've written. And actions have consequences.

Will I continue to send potshots and missles across the bow? Oh, hell, yes-after all the years I've lived here, it's become a hobby. Somebody has to tell the truth, after all...(I'll probably be arrested and deported, but at least I will have had some fun).