I spent the best part of the day in the wretchedly ill-lit Alexander Centre which was devoted for the day to a fundraising sale for the Faversham Society. Most people there had booked a table to sell bric-a-brac.
The FavSoc got £10 a table, the town council got a rent for the room, and most people got a bit of cleared space.
What was on offer?
Jam, old china, books, junk, lace, pictures, crockery,jewellery, maps, cards, clothes, shoes, all the usual stuff.
I bought an old oilpainting, with a couple of small holes in the canvas, but showing a pretty Edwardian girl by the seaside. The sky is well painted, the whole scene rather jolly and pre-WWI ish.
My own stall was commercial - my nutrition business. I signed up one customer and listed 10 others who'd like to come to a presentation, all very good news.
Very social time we spent.
I knew at least 2/3rds of the people who walked around, one way or another. That's the thing about living in a small town. For better or worse.
Friday, 31 October 2008
Thursday, 23 October 2008
Elmley Marshes
Today we went to Elmley Marshes on the Isle of Sheppey, with David Snelling - an old friend and life-long birdwatcher. He brought some superb binoculars with him and his old Cavalier King Charles spaniel Bruno. Not long after we went down towards the hides, we were stopped by Steve Gordon, the estate manager, who was riding a quadbike. Bruno had to be on a lead. We didn't have one for poor old Bruno, so Steve nipped back to the centre to get one for him and also brought a warmer coat for me. Kind man.
The wind was fairly strong, blowing in advance of a great rainstorm which is already lashing the north and west of the country.
We saw marsh harriers, mallard, cormorant, little egrets, starlings, lapwing, kestrel, a sparrowhawk, black-headed gulls, finches, sparrows, a green woodpeckers, curlew, and canada geese.
Some of these I could identify on my own, but it was thrilling to see the harriers and learn more about them from David.
The sky is so huge there, wild and open, with distant views to the Downs, and the tide far out on the mudflats.
Sheppey is such a strange place - empty, old, forgotten, poor, rich, beautiful, ugly - very atmospheric. The new bridge gives you far views, and steam rises up from the plasterboard factory and the paper mills, and you can see cranes and gantries from various industrial projects old and new on the horizon. The prison sprawls out across the farmland.
We went to Leysdown to see if we could find lunch, and various arcades and pubs and cafes were open but looked so forlorn we did not stay long. Instead we drove back to the Harty Ferry Inn where we had lunch. The dog stayed in the car - not allowed in, despite being the quietest and mildest creature you could imagine. He only barks at men in hats.
We went to Harty church to see the carved chest which was once stolen and put up for auction - only to be spotted and saved, and restored to its rightful place, and now kept safely behind a locked grille.
We looked at the huge oak framework in the west end of the church and speculated whether it might be the remains of a Tudor navigation beacon giving a safe line of entry in Faversham Creek.
We bought a pot of gooseberry jam, and put the money into a wonderful old iron and oak safe by the door. No-one came to see us - this was the first time we have ever been left alone in a visit there: all other visits have provoked a guardian coming to keep an eye on us.
It is amazing that there should be such wild and open spaces so close to London, so richly populated with fantastic birds of prey and other avian characters of such beauty and radiance. Even with that industrial work spreading ever closer, that stretch of land will stay as a nature reserve, through the work of official bodies and the private landowner who farms it in such a sensitive way. His cattle - black, white and gold, roam freely over the wide marsh fields. The grass is cropped to carefully managed lengths to encourage the various wild species to use the land as they pass through. We have seen hares here in the past, and the area is rich in water voles. All this is only 50 miles from the City.
The wind was fairly strong, blowing in advance of a great rainstorm which is already lashing the north and west of the country.
We saw marsh harriers, mallard, cormorant, little egrets, starlings, lapwing, kestrel, a sparrowhawk, black-headed gulls, finches, sparrows, a green woodpeckers, curlew, and canada geese.
Some of these I could identify on my own, but it was thrilling to see the harriers and learn more about them from David.
The sky is so huge there, wild and open, with distant views to the Downs, and the tide far out on the mudflats.
Sheppey is such a strange place - empty, old, forgotten, poor, rich, beautiful, ugly - very atmospheric. The new bridge gives you far views, and steam rises up from the plasterboard factory and the paper mills, and you can see cranes and gantries from various industrial projects old and new on the horizon. The prison sprawls out across the farmland.
We went to Leysdown to see if we could find lunch, and various arcades and pubs and cafes were open but looked so forlorn we did not stay long. Instead we drove back to the Harty Ferry Inn where we had lunch. The dog stayed in the car - not allowed in, despite being the quietest and mildest creature you could imagine. He only barks at men in hats.
We went to Harty church to see the carved chest which was once stolen and put up for auction - only to be spotted and saved, and restored to its rightful place, and now kept safely behind a locked grille.
We looked at the huge oak framework in the west end of the church and speculated whether it might be the remains of a Tudor navigation beacon giving a safe line of entry in Faversham Creek.
We bought a pot of gooseberry jam, and put the money into a wonderful old iron and oak safe by the door. No-one came to see us - this was the first time we have ever been left alone in a visit there: all other visits have provoked a guardian coming to keep an eye on us.
It is amazing that there should be such wild and open spaces so close to London, so richly populated with fantastic birds of prey and other avian characters of such beauty and radiance. Even with that industrial work spreading ever closer, that stretch of land will stay as a nature reserve, through the work of official bodies and the private landowner who farms it in such a sensitive way. His cattle - black, white and gold, roam freely over the wide marsh fields. The grass is cropped to carefully managed lengths to encourage the various wild species to use the land as they pass through. We have seen hares here in the past, and the area is rich in water voles. All this is only 50 miles from the City.
Thursday, 31 July 2008
The modern uses of churches
Our parish church is huge - with aisles in the transepts. It's bigger than some cathedrals, 'reflecting', as they say, the wealth of earlier times. It has a treasure - a painted pillar which survived the iconoclastic ravages of the 16th and 17th centuries. And of course, like all old and carefully maintained buildings it has some marvellous quirks and oddities. In the Georgian period someone saw fit to rebuild the nave, so whereas the rest of the building is nicely Gothic with stone structure, pointed arches, stained glass and genuine theatricality about it, the nave is a real shocker, looking like an Edwardian municipal concert hall or (worse) a Masonic dining room.
Still, the acoustics are great and we have lots of good music there.
Last week we had a 'Wine and Wisdom' party there. 144 enthusiasts crammed themselves into the north transept to answer barely audible quiz questions, drink some rather nice wine, and then hear music performed by the redoubtable Henry Dagg.
Henry is a saw player and creator of sound sculptures. He is also keyboard player in a Genesis tribure band (In the cage).
Everyone had turned out to raise money to keep this genius in one piece, body and soul. It has been said, if this was Japan, he would be labelled 'a National Treasure' and be given a reasonable pension.
Anyway, the town rose up in his support and pulled more than £1000 for him. In return he played his saw, the Sheng, and the Catastrophone. If you have not heard any of these instruments yet, mark it down in your diary today! One day, you WILL hear them and you will never forget them.
And you will never forget seeing or hearing his new Pin Barrel Harp (a commission from the English Folk Dance and Song Society, in London's Regent's Park). This work, which was originally to have been made in bronze, is in fact made of stainless steel. In size and general shape it resembles a garden sofa-swing, but it is solar-powered, with two huge stereo horns, a piano-style frame at the back with 46 strings all counterbalanced by their own oscillating weights to provide perfect, weather-proof pitch and vibrato, and then a rotating barrel in the middle fitted with 26,000 pins to pluck at those shining taut sexy strings at the back.
What a piece.
It was not in the church for our fund-raising evening, except in spirit. It ought to go to the Tate Modern before it gets installed in the garden at Cecil Sharpe House.
We were all very pleased and grateful that we could have this quiz and concert in the church. It seems very fitting that this huge building should have a large group of people there, thinking, drinking, supporting the arts, creating community....
If there were fewer fixed pews, we could have used even more of the building and we could arrange an even wider variety of events.
Meanwhile, EFDSS and the townspeople of Faversham have managed to scrape a few more quid together to keep this genius going. Good old Faversham.
Still, the acoustics are great and we have lots of good music there.
Last week we had a 'Wine and Wisdom' party there. 144 enthusiasts crammed themselves into the north transept to answer barely audible quiz questions, drink some rather nice wine, and then hear music performed by the redoubtable Henry Dagg.
Henry is a saw player and creator of sound sculptures. He is also keyboard player in a Genesis tribure band (In the cage).
Everyone had turned out to raise money to keep this genius in one piece, body and soul. It has been said, if this was Japan, he would be labelled 'a National Treasure' and be given a reasonable pension.
Anyway, the town rose up in his support and pulled more than £1000 for him. In return he played his saw, the Sheng, and the Catastrophone. If you have not heard any of these instruments yet, mark it down in your diary today! One day, you WILL hear them and you will never forget them.
And you will never forget seeing or hearing his new Pin Barrel Harp (a commission from the English Folk Dance and Song Society, in London's Regent's Park). This work, which was originally to have been made in bronze, is in fact made of stainless steel. In size and general shape it resembles a garden sofa-swing, but it is solar-powered, with two huge stereo horns, a piano-style frame at the back with 46 strings all counterbalanced by their own oscillating weights to provide perfect, weather-proof pitch and vibrato, and then a rotating barrel in the middle fitted with 26,000 pins to pluck at those shining taut sexy strings at the back.
What a piece.
It was not in the church for our fund-raising evening, except in spirit. It ought to go to the Tate Modern before it gets installed in the garden at Cecil Sharpe House.
We were all very pleased and grateful that we could have this quiz and concert in the church. It seems very fitting that this huge building should have a large group of people there, thinking, drinking, supporting the arts, creating community....
If there were fewer fixed pews, we could have used even more of the building and we could arrange an even wider variety of events.
Meanwhile, EFDSS and the townspeople of Faversham have managed to scrape a few more quid together to keep this genius going. Good old Faversham.
Saturday, 19 July 2008
Allotments
The newly revived allottments in North Preston are looking splendid. Just over a year ago they were a tangled mass of rubbish and terrible weeds - brambles, thistles, small trees... But under the expert guidance of one or two old hands, and with support from the local council and housing association, the acre of so of land has been tidied and tamed. There were just a few people wanting a patch to start with, and several plots waiting for someone to take them on, but as word spread and as the communal parts of the site were organised, the popularity of the project has grown and there's a queue of people wanting to come in. Tomorrow is our Open Day.
Someone has put up a small marquee. The paths have been mown. We've been asked to donate suitable things for a raffle or tombola. The long privet hedge along the entrance driveway, which has a nasty tendency to leer over, has been clipped back into place. So we look all neat and tidy.
Not all the plots are fully worked yet. Two in particular had been let go - the enthusiasm of their first owners was not enough to carry them through to that sort of diligence which is the essential requirement for this kind of horticulture. As it happens both these overgrown plots are near to the entrance, so it's just in the last week or so that they have been re-allocated.
One has already been stripped to the bare earth, and a compost pile started. The other is being worked by a woman who is determined to dig it all herself, at her own pace. The dry earth is almost rock hard now. It desperately needs rain, but Faversham being in a notorious dryspot, that is looking very unlikely.
Elsewhere we see amazing layout of cabbages, leeks, beans, tomatoes and salads. The first flush of raspberries and strawberries is past, but the black loganberries are just coming in. There are greenhouses, polytunnels, a chicken run and someone has a small caravan for brewing tea. So any visitors tomorrow will see us in a varied state of productiveness.
The best thing is the camaraderie - someone standing watching you work, saying nothing unless asked, and then pronouncing that what you've done is ok or rubbish. It's also fun planting something unusual, something the old boys haven't seen before. 'What's that then? Funny looking stuff. Is it Rocket? Don't taste of much.' (That means they've wandered over when we weren't there and tasted some in private). 'Ah, no, that's Mizuni, not Rocket.' Then there's a little pause. 'Ah, I see. Still don't taste of much, does it?'
Someone has put up a small marquee. The paths have been mown. We've been asked to donate suitable things for a raffle or tombola. The long privet hedge along the entrance driveway, which has a nasty tendency to leer over, has been clipped back into place. So we look all neat and tidy.
Not all the plots are fully worked yet. Two in particular had been let go - the enthusiasm of their first owners was not enough to carry them through to that sort of diligence which is the essential requirement for this kind of horticulture. As it happens both these overgrown plots are near to the entrance, so it's just in the last week or so that they have been re-allocated.
One has already been stripped to the bare earth, and a compost pile started. The other is being worked by a woman who is determined to dig it all herself, at her own pace. The dry earth is almost rock hard now. It desperately needs rain, but Faversham being in a notorious dryspot, that is looking very unlikely.
Elsewhere we see amazing layout of cabbages, leeks, beans, tomatoes and salads. The first flush of raspberries and strawberries is past, but the black loganberries are just coming in. There are greenhouses, polytunnels, a chicken run and someone has a small caravan for brewing tea. So any visitors tomorrow will see us in a varied state of productiveness.
The best thing is the camaraderie - someone standing watching you work, saying nothing unless asked, and then pronouncing that what you've done is ok or rubbish. It's also fun planting something unusual, something the old boys haven't seen before. 'What's that then? Funny looking stuff. Is it Rocket? Don't taste of much.' (That means they've wandered over when we weren't there and tasted some in private). 'Ah, no, that's Mizuni, not Rocket.' Then there's a little pause. 'Ah, I see. Still don't taste of much, does it?'
Tuesday, 15 July 2008
The Pin Barrel Harp
Two years ago, Henry Dagg - the renowned musical-saw player and creator of sound sculptures - was commissioned by the English Folk Dance and Song Society to make three new instruments to be sited in their garden, open to the public, at Cecil Sharpe House, Regents Park, London. Henry lives in an old pop (or brush) factory in Faversham, where he has an astonishing collection of machine tools, beautiful objects from the great era of British engineering. He has lathes, band-saws, jigs, cutters, drills, a forge, and much more. All this stuff lives on the shop floor. He lives in one room in the old offices, bed at one end of the room, and kitchen at the other. The conditions are not attractive. He has no time to think about decorations or improvements. Every moment is spent on his creations.
The largest and first of the commissioned pieces for EFDSS is a Pin Barrel Harp, probably to be named a Sharpe-sichord in honour of its commissioner. The money for this project came from the Lottery who allocated £50,000 for remodelling the garden, the design and creation of the three new sound sculptures, and then their installation. Not much, really.
The Pin Barrel Harp project was to have been made in cast bronze, but the price of bronze shot up far beyond the budget almost immediately and Henry, having consulted EFDSS, agreed to redesign the whole thing in stainless steel. Working with this bright but extremely difficult metal has prolonged the project long past its planned finishing date. The Lottery people are wondering where their project is, EFDSS are tapping their fingers, and Henry has run out of money. He has had no time to go out busking to earn his pitifully small income.
Faversham is doing its bit to help, with a Wine and Wisdom evening to raise some ready cash for him. And we are seeking out rich patrons who might be attracted by the old-style technique by which artist geniuses could keep body and soul together. What would serve is someone sufficiently rich and illuminated to give him a grant of £10 or £15 thousands a year for a few years. I'm sure it would be tax-deductible. If this were Japan, Henry would be recognised and pensioned as a National Treasure.
The Pin Barrel Harp has to be seen to be believed. It slightly resembles one of those garden sofa-swings, in size and shape. It has solar panels on top, and two enormous stereo speaker horns at the front. There is a kind of piano-frame at the back with 46 stainless steel strings, each tensioned by its own oscillating weight so that the sound has a natural vibration. The strings will be plucked by a series of 2,000 pins placed on a revolving cylinder or barrel in the middle of the instrument. Although it is only about two-thirds finished, it is already possible to get a sense of its voice - a rich, unearthly, harmonious tone and a good vibrato.
Surely a rock band will want to use this, or a Hollywood film-maker? Someone from that world could afford to think about keeping Henry alive. His inventions are marvellous, amusing, thought-provoking, welcoming, extraordinary, exquisite and joyous. He is another of Faversham's ornaments, and if you want to get a feel for what he is like, then go and see the railings round his house. They are fully tuned, with the score of an original tune worked all round in steel, and they were given their World Premiere on international television by virtuosos percussionist Evelyn Glennie.
The largest and first of the commissioned pieces for EFDSS is a Pin Barrel Harp, probably to be named a Sharpe-sichord in honour of its commissioner. The money for this project came from the Lottery who allocated £50,000 for remodelling the garden, the design and creation of the three new sound sculptures, and then their installation. Not much, really.
The Pin Barrel Harp project was to have been made in cast bronze, but the price of bronze shot up far beyond the budget almost immediately and Henry, having consulted EFDSS, agreed to redesign the whole thing in stainless steel. Working with this bright but extremely difficult metal has prolonged the project long past its planned finishing date. The Lottery people are wondering where their project is, EFDSS are tapping their fingers, and Henry has run out of money. He has had no time to go out busking to earn his pitifully small income.
Faversham is doing its bit to help, with a Wine and Wisdom evening to raise some ready cash for him. And we are seeking out rich patrons who might be attracted by the old-style technique by which artist geniuses could keep body and soul together. What would serve is someone sufficiently rich and illuminated to give him a grant of £10 or £15 thousands a year for a few years. I'm sure it would be tax-deductible. If this were Japan, Henry would be recognised and pensioned as a National Treasure.
The Pin Barrel Harp has to be seen to be believed. It slightly resembles one of those garden sofa-swings, in size and shape. It has solar panels on top, and two enormous stereo speaker horns at the front. There is a kind of piano-frame at the back with 46 stainless steel strings, each tensioned by its own oscillating weight so that the sound has a natural vibration. The strings will be plucked by a series of 2,000 pins placed on a revolving cylinder or barrel in the middle of the instrument. Although it is only about two-thirds finished, it is already possible to get a sense of its voice - a rich, unearthly, harmonious tone and a good vibrato.
Surely a rock band will want to use this, or a Hollywood film-maker? Someone from that world could afford to think about keeping Henry alive. His inventions are marvellous, amusing, thought-provoking, welcoming, extraordinary, exquisite and joyous. He is another of Faversham's ornaments, and if you want to get a feel for what he is like, then go and see the railings round his house. They are fully tuned, with the score of an original tune worked all round in steel, and they were given their World Premiere on international television by virtuosos percussionist Evelyn Glennie.
A garden day in Faversham
Yesterday I spent most of the day considering garden design, at a privately-arranged event in Faversham featuring a famous garden design consultant, and some local gardening professionals. An impressive group of ladies gathered for coffee and we sat and eyed each other up while waiting for things to begin. We looked at our hostess's large and slightly neglected garden, and formed tentative relationships with others in the throng.
Eventually we were ushered into the beautiful curved-wall drawing room of the fine old house, and found a very varied array of seating waiting for us - sofas, armchairs, dining chairs, and garden seats all arranged cinema-style. Our hostess introduced the speaker and he then showed us his slides. Fascinating they were too, taking in ideas from large gardens and small, all over Britain and including some from France and America too.
Our theme was 'Small Garden Design' and he showed us dozens of ideas we could pick from: the empty and cool, the crammed and relentless, the exotic and the practical. Think about triangles, think about points of focus, take ideas from huge gardens and adapt them, know what you want, less is more, have fun, use colour, use objects to draw the eye (but not as many as they have at Highgrove), fuchsias are coming back into fashion.....
[NB These were named for a man named Fuchs. I wish people would pronounce the name of hte plant bearing this in mind, instead of a slurred version of the word 'future].
Our speaker showed us marvellous plants to try - those which bring more than one quality to the table - long period of show, perfume, wonderful leaves or fruit or bark. In a small garden everything needs to be carefully chosen and thought about.
It seems too, that garden designers try things out in their own gardens and when it all gets too overgrown, or goes wrong - they just move house!!!!
We had an elegant lunch outside, and then moved in groups to consider design points in our hostess's garden and in another down the road.
What needs to be hidden? How can you do it? Can you afford to start from scratch? Think about what you really want to do in your garden. Use focal points to lead people from one place to another. You don't have to actually go to the focal point for it to be effective. How do you accommodate children in a garden? What plants belong to what age of house? Why do some layouts work better than others?
It was fascinating to hear the differences of opinion between the various professionals there.
Books were available to be bought, names and addresses exchanged between new friends, business done - contracts discussed, the local plant-frame company had items for sale, and there was a lot to think about.
Gardening is a refined form of wrestling, with a human in one corner and the planet in the other. Nothing stays still. It's an unending dialogue. THIS plant is so pretty but it's powerfully invasive. What suits you now may not suit you in ten years' time and then you may find you cannot dig out the roots.
Faversham is such an unexpected place. Some of the people on this Garden Day had not been here before and were surprised and pleased by what they saw.
One lady I spoke to had been born in Essex in a remote village. She had spent her life hoping to go back to her old village, thinking it a kind of paradise. After a week spent there at her brother's house recently, she realised this was a bad idea and also that in Faversham she has been entirely happy. It is a really rewarding place to live. Partly because from time to time, someone arranges an event like that Garden Day, and we all learn a little more, and feel better for it.
Eventually we were ushered into the beautiful curved-wall drawing room of the fine old house, and found a very varied array of seating waiting for us - sofas, armchairs, dining chairs, and garden seats all arranged cinema-style. Our hostess introduced the speaker and he then showed us his slides. Fascinating they were too, taking in ideas from large gardens and small, all over Britain and including some from France and America too.
Our theme was 'Small Garden Design' and he showed us dozens of ideas we could pick from: the empty and cool, the crammed and relentless, the exotic and the practical. Think about triangles, think about points of focus, take ideas from huge gardens and adapt them, know what you want, less is more, have fun, use colour, use objects to draw the eye (but not as many as they have at Highgrove), fuchsias are coming back into fashion.....
[NB These were named for a man named Fuchs. I wish people would pronounce the name of hte plant bearing this in mind, instead of a slurred version of the word 'future].
Our speaker showed us marvellous plants to try - those which bring more than one quality to the table - long period of show, perfume, wonderful leaves or fruit or bark. In a small garden everything needs to be carefully chosen and thought about.
It seems too, that garden designers try things out in their own gardens and when it all gets too overgrown, or goes wrong - they just move house!!!!
We had an elegant lunch outside, and then moved in groups to consider design points in our hostess's garden and in another down the road.
What needs to be hidden? How can you do it? Can you afford to start from scratch? Think about what you really want to do in your garden. Use focal points to lead people from one place to another. You don't have to actually go to the focal point for it to be effective. How do you accommodate children in a garden? What plants belong to what age of house? Why do some layouts work better than others?
It was fascinating to hear the differences of opinion between the various professionals there.
Books were available to be bought, names and addresses exchanged between new friends, business done - contracts discussed, the local plant-frame company had items for sale, and there was a lot to think about.
Gardening is a refined form of wrestling, with a human in one corner and the planet in the other. Nothing stays still. It's an unending dialogue. THIS plant is so pretty but it's powerfully invasive. What suits you now may not suit you in ten years' time and then you may find you cannot dig out the roots.
Faversham is such an unexpected place. Some of the people on this Garden Day had not been here before and were surprised and pleased by what they saw.
One lady I spoke to had been born in Essex in a remote village. She had spent her life hoping to go back to her old village, thinking it a kind of paradise. After a week spent there at her brother's house recently, she realised this was a bad idea and also that in Faversham she has been entirely happy. It is a really rewarding place to live. Partly because from time to time, someone arranges an event like that Garden Day, and we all learn a little more, and feel better for it.
Sunday, 30 December 2007
The young
The young have all been home for Christmas - young adults now, working in London mostly or desperately looking for jobs which make some sort of use of their hard-won degrees. One, a trained, experienced, skilled and talented film-maker is working in the fund-raising office of the Great Ormond Street Hospital for Children, not, sadly making films for them, but running mailshots. Another, with a degree in politics and a burning desire to make some sort difference to the third world, has been writing vapid 'news' articles for an online info-agency, mostly hating it for its shallow uselessness. Another has done four years training as a sound techncian and feels lucky to have a job as a barman. Here's another, with a good history degree and a year's experience in the upmarket restaurant trade, is deeply disillusioned with the cons and scams of the dining-out business and has decided to change his chosen career away from restaurants to something with more morality. They have all spent hours, weeks, months, looking for decent jobs. They have been offered shelf-filling, cold-calling, telesales, crap work. Graduate entry schemes for big companies with household names ask unanswerable questions based on the lowest possible expectations. These young are, to put it mildly, deeply disillusioned. Was it worth it, all the slogging for those degrees? Who seems to care? We parents do, but who else? Most if not all of them have a wide range of talents in music or sport or theatre. They have creativity and know about team-work, and indepdendent thought.
But to me, as something of an old hippy, or at least someone who knew about 'Peace, man' and went on lots and lots of demos and protests, what is very striking is the passivity and acquiescence of the young generation.
Why are they not up in arms about things? They need work, proper work. They need to be able to afford somewhere to live. They face truly calamitous and potentially overwhelming problems like global warming and climate change, possible economic recession, housing shortages, pollution, religious wars, terrorism - god, what a legacy we created for them. But where is the protest? Are they all just doing an ostrich job and spending their time on Facebook? Are they so blinded by consumerism that they haven't noticed all this going on? Where is their sense of being a generation who could make a difference?
Answers on a hand-made banner please.
But to me, as something of an old hippy, or at least someone who knew about 'Peace, man' and went on lots and lots of demos and protests, what is very striking is the passivity and acquiescence of the young generation.
Why are they not up in arms about things? They need work, proper work. They need to be able to afford somewhere to live. They face truly calamitous and potentially overwhelming problems like global warming and climate change, possible economic recession, housing shortages, pollution, religious wars, terrorism - god, what a legacy we created for them. But where is the protest? Are they all just doing an ostrich job and spending their time on Facebook? Are they so blinded by consumerism that they haven't noticed all this going on? Where is their sense of being a generation who could make a difference?
Answers on a hand-made banner please.
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