Manifesto Report 2024

 

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Things are Dismal. Is Pollyanna the Answer?

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  THINGS ARE DISMAL. IS POLLYANNA THE ANSWER? In the past, the emphasis in these blogs has often been about searching for glimmers of ‘hope’ rather than relying on relentless optimism. We’ve been a bit sniffy about bouncy positivity, the ‘Hello clouds, hello sky’ way of seeing the world. Little Miss Sunshine does not go down well with gritty realists and to call someone a ‘Pollyanna’ can be a bit of an insult. We are women who roll up our sleeves and confront. But frankly, at the moment, a bit of vacuous joyfulness might actually be quite nice. Because, well, everything is really pretty awful. It’s hard to escape from an overwhelming sense of powerlessness. Whether you are trying to find a dentist, looking for a decent public toilet, or standing aghast at what’s happening on the world’s stage and wondering about any prospects for peace, justice and a decent environment, it’s the same feeling – that of your head banging fruitlessly against a wall. The original nightmare vision of the fo
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Wear a White Ribbon on 25th November

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  What? Not another one! November 25th. Another date to remember. Another ‘awareness day’. So, why should you bother with this one? It’s a month before Christmas, and you’re probably thinking that you’ve got better things to do at this time of year. ‘For heaven’s sake’, you’re muttering to yourself, ‘can’t we have at least one day in the year without some kind of celebration, commemoration or appeal. And all these ribbons? Why?’ Look at them – pink for breast cancer, green for mental health, purple for LGBTQIA+Youth, even black for the anniversary of the fateful Molotov Ribbentrop Pact, and blue (which is proving to be a bit controversial for the police at the moment). Not to mention all those songs - like the Harry Belafonte weepie about scarlet ribbons, and that 1973 hit urging you to ‘tie a yellow ribbon round the ole oak tree’. Surely we’re all ribboned out by now? And the days, the days – many of these of course are deeply embedded in our brains, whether we celebrate them or not.
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Skipping to the Loo!

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Skipping to the Loo! Joining the Queue Marylebone railway station is rather a nice place. Some splendid Victorian architecture, a florist, coffee bars and an airy, friendly atmosphere. A pleasant place to arrive, until you leave your busy train and need to access the ladies loo quickly. Looking around you might notice an odd little construction advertising the dubious joys of Bicester village and staffed by enthusiastic young people in fancy dress. Nestling behind it and near to the posh chocolate stall, you will spy the weary queue for the toilets. You know that queue. Your visits to cinemas, theatres, motorway services, festivals and other events have taught you all about recognising that queue and all its implications. But, hey, you’ve actually found the loos. And they are open.  And at least you are not visiting one of those places where you have to take potluck on the likelihood of finding anywhere at all. Sometimes you are fortunate and find a central, visible, well signposted, c
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