We are very fortunate here in Malvern to live on the fringes of one of the most beautiful parts of Britain, the Cotswolds. Like everything expressed here and on other blogger’s sites, it’s my opinion so not everyone would appreciate this area. Honey-coloured stone buildings, restrictions on (rampant) new house-building, trees, fields and green everywhere. Thatched cottages, country lanes, small villages, hardly any pylons, streams and village greens, quaint names, “arty” and individual shops, too many average cafes, several incredible places to eat/drink, sparkling energies, peace, the lack of noise except in over-touristed towns, green wellies, a surplus of Range Rovers, “up-market” charity shops, no noticeable graffiti, civility, charm and envy.
Any biker reading this will know it is impossible to capture the appeal of the motorcycle to anyone who hasn’t tried it. To get anywhere near a proper appreciation watch Henry Cole, a wonderful ambassador. Our car is a convertible (and ?), my motorbike is nearly 40 years old and despite having a 500 cc engine is not that fast. But I love it. Riding through the Cotswolds in summer, stopping at any number of idyllic destinations for a coffee, skipping past endless queues of cars at weekend, is a delight. It is difficult (see my last blog post) to be too distracted by mental chatter whilst riding otherwise a potential trip to somewhere more beautiful the Cotswolds beckons.
Being born and brought up on “the wrong side of the tracks” visiting places like Bourton-on-the-Water, Stow-on-the-Wold, Painswick and Minchinhampton as a young child would have been like going to another planet. A lot has happened since, and now my occasional visits are like therapy. Correction they are not “like” therapy, they are therapy.
In these crazy, insane days of self-identification, a deliberate political ploy to accelerate the millions of hand carts plunging headlong towards hell, there are many situations in which wearing motorbike boots and jacket are not advisable if you don’t want to be triggered. Yes my friends, not everyone likes a biker. Perhaps I was born a biker; my adoptive father was a biker so it makes sense. Just like vampires we are a persecuted minority. Hurt feelings whilst riding a bike can be very dangerous, this is no laughing matter. Changing your bike, which happens often for some strange reason to most bikers, going out in jeans (the non-Kevlar-lined variety) and a T-shirt or having your hair cut and beard trimmed (I can’t grow one so can I self-identify as yet another persecuted minority?) cannot remove the socially imposed stigma.
Riding around the Cotswolds, not the most PC area I can think of, can fill the biker with a sense of oppression, victimhood and suffer the indignity of having to remove one’s helmet at some petrol stations.
So when being my true, oppressed biker self, surely the zenith of earthly incarnation, I feel like shit. And it’s your fault. Do more than cut me some slack: back off and respect my feelings. I’m just human, like you. And come to think about it, if we get enough of you to back off I’m sure we can instigate some changes to this truly appalling, unreal world of the honey-coloured stone.
Stuff building new houses out of Cotswold stone. Breeze blocks and concrete are good enough for the rest of us. There are too many trees that get in the way of 5G. Cut the bleeding things down. And there are too many farting sheep and cows: round them up and process them, they are contributing to global warming. Let us cut a swathe through all these arty, “boutique” shops. Build a “smart” supermarket run by a skeleton staff. Bus in skip loads of disenfranchised teenagers. Graffiti never harmed anyone. In fact we could set up conclaves of oppressed groups, i.e. anyone, so they can all vie with each other to see who can be triggered most quickly and most frequently. Something else you can bet on other than the flies crawling up your window. Bet 24/7/365.
Yawn. I do exaggerate. But the Cotswolds are an anachronism. But for the political pushback of the rather affluent residents who live in this area, we could surely have HS 3 and another smart motorway?
The problem is I suppose, despite my bias, prejudice and genuine victim status I love the area. I am going to make a confession. I’m a regular attender of Cotswolds Anonymous. I might have been born a biker but I have grown up to appreciate beauty. And in appreciating beauty I couldn’t give a f***about anyone’s political sensitivity, not least that of George Soros.
Life is beautiful, blessings to you all.
Jack Stewart, August 18th 2019.
P.S. I had the idea for this blog post many weeks ago and no doubt because I have not expressed my thoughts they have become somewhat edgy. Enjoy!
P.P.S. Did anyone notice amongst the furore of paedophile Epstein’s demise, the US Attorney General, William Barr’s contribution to the intrigue? Epstein-Barr is a virulent, massively common, health-destroying virus…Thank you Victor.
It’s quite some time since I needed my dopamine hit from likes and followers, and yet I’m full of gratitude (yes, it still works for me) for those who do acknowledge my efforts. And my apologies for not appreciating enough of yours. Seasoned bloggers, of which I’m not one, will know the best time to post, so I may be missing out. However, in line with the intentional culling from search engines of non-mainstream information, I have some idea of what is popular and what isn’t. Edgy, critical, sarky stuff doesn’t cut it. But I’m human after all. (this defence is wearing a little thin-a message from the shadow side of your higher self).
US Democratic presidential hopeful and anti-war (“isolationist” isn’t language wonderful?) candidate (censored, blocked, criticised and vilified) Tulsi Gabbard has a similar view to myself. Anyone who mentions American (or British) “values” is usually a signal for me to head for the hills, but give me free speech, civil liberties and privacy every time.