There are some very strong feelings running through the media (and the -ack- blogosphere) about Clare Short's resignation of the Labour whip. As I said, I remain, broadly, a fan of hers: she's strong, she's brave, she didn't hugely sell out. I'm guessing she has a few regrets, but she can probably look herself in the mirror. That's no mean feat for a radical politician.
But I can also see why New Labour has washed its hands of her. I don't think they should have, we don't need any more shiny corporate maleness on the so-called left of centre, but I think it's an understandable outcome. I can - shock and awe - see both sides.
It's a bit like when married couples get divorced. You usually take one side (and can happily call the other party bitch-trog-from-hell or dirty-shagging-bastard and believe it), but you can often also see that they might have a little point. Doesn't make their behaviour honourable/reasonable/rational, but maybe New Labour can be justifiably a wee bit pissed off with ranty old Clare. She can't see it maybe, but we can.
M got a letter from his scary ex wife today, and I looked hard in it for the little point she might have in between the emotional bludgers. But I think the most charitable thing I can say is that it was a communique from a parallel universe. And you think to yourself - how did these people ever live together for so long when they just don't get each other?
But, like disillusioned members of the Labour Party, they must have got each other once, or at the very least thought they did.
Love by Numbers in the Guardian today cites the bleak statistic that children whose parents divorced are far more likely to get divorced themselves. It says "however loving their parents are to them, in their adult relationships children copy how their parents got on. The six behaviours proven to mess up a marriage and those of subsequent generations are: being jealous, domineering, angry, critical, moody, and not talking to their spouse."
Interestingly, it seems the chilblains are being angry, critical, moody, and not talking to their father. Four out of six ain't good. Me, I'm happy that a) my parents are still married and b) that I've never gone there. I will never, touch wood, be this pissed off with anyone.
The case continues. Meanwhile, we've got tulips to plant.
joella
2 comments:
Ooh, tulips! Is it that time already?
Yep, in fact they should really have been in a few weeks ago. I optimistically bought 75 this year (traditional colours, naturalising, none of your frilly stripy nonsense) but a combination of Oxfordshire clay and pissing rain meant I only got about a third planted before I retreated. I know they're not in deep enough either, but I'll do better with the rest next weekend. I will.
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