A blue collar revolution

We live in interesting times, with Brexit tottering towards March 2017, when despite all legal challenges, article 50 will be triggered. Before that happens a Trump Tornado, propelled by a blue collar vote of the ignored and disenfranchised, will sweep across the world, giving hope to those who thought that no matter who you voted for, that the government always gets in. It will no longer be enough to vote the party line just because it’s what your position in life dictates. People will be forced to get off the couch and make their voices heard above the noise of vicious minorities who think they know better than everyone else. They will also have a greater opportunity to bypass the media gatekeepers because despite best efforts of said gatekeepers, real, unfiltered information has been made available. The dam is breached. The castle wall down, and the defenders are swarming out only to find out that they do not occupy the high ground. The globalist weapon-words of ‘sexist’, ‘racist’, ‘misogynist’ and ‘Islamophobe’ have lost their edge, dulled through over use. Not that they were any more than scary shadow-swords, powerless against human resolve and a little truth.

On the personal front there’s been a lot of ‘hurry up and wait’ over the past few months and I’m like a hunter sitting quietly in the pre-dawn light waiting for the sun to rise. For rise it will. Despite the threats to shut down dissent, both physical and political, the world is turning as it always has, and no one can make it spin any more quickly or slowly. Ding Dong the Clinton is gone, and the coming dawn promises a new kind of world peace. A querulous, demanding cacophony of raised voices will herald the dawn chorus of its arrival, then once every throat gets sore from all the shouting, things will settle down. Especially when all the predicted doom and gloom fails to arrive.

On the negative side, a health issue has come catspaw to slow me down. Surgical intervention will be required, but is fairly minor and won’t interfere with any other plans. I hope. Scans and tests must be performed next week, and necessary medical indignities undergone. Nothing anywhere near the long running tragi-comedy that poor Anna has suffered over the last few years, but painful enough. Not a showstopper, but not very pleasant either. We are all flesh, with all the frailties thereof. My tribulations are mere inconvenience, nothing more.

What else? There’s a new bed and furniture coming next week. Stuff has to be lifted and shifted. We’ve got rid of a few things to make room for the new kit, rooms have to be rearranged and repurposed which means muscle work. I have purchased a new electric screwdriver for assembly, as most furniture over here seems to come flat packed.

We’re also looking at a new apartment over the weekend, a little bigger so we can accommodate guests more readily. Not quite so close to downtown, but then neither of us commutes anyway. It’s like our old place mid-island. A little out on the fringes, but that’s where we seem to belong. Then there’s chunks of money to be shifted to take advantage of tax rules. Pensions to be deferred. Papers to be signed and research to be done. Then I have to pick my next college course to shoehorn in between now and our big European adventure starting in May.

We’re ramping up into a busier time in all sorts of ways. The sense of just marking time that has dulled my edge over the last year will be a rapidly fading memory by Christmas. I’m actually looking forward to it. Then I’m also thinking of getting an Amazon Prime subscription so I can download The Grand Tour.

And what of this new blue collar revolution that is sweeping the world? I think, overall, that it will be a good thing. We shall see.