Brexit's sunlit uplands

Turns out that the contractor delivering Brexit's sunlit uplands, may be the same one who brought us the 2008 Lapland-style theme park in the New Forest...similar M O.  Rule Britannia, and all that.

A weight lifted

I went to bed last night seething, angry at a country I saw as populated by a majority who'd shown themselves to be xenophobic and bigoted, myopic and wilfully ignorant *****, happy to celebrate their own craptitude. The exit polls had come in and it suggested a landslide for the conservatives, even after 10 years of ideological austerity, swathing cuts to public services, the associated suffering and 10's of thousands dead as a consequence.  Angry that so many had voted for a leader who shown himself to be a racist, a misogynist, a homophobic, a serial adulterer, a man sacked three time for lying...twice in political office, and arguably the worst Foreign Secretary this country has ever known. Angry that with the light of truth so thoroughly illuminating all the filthy lying corners of the Brexit argument, when every pro had withered and dissipated in that light, even then my country voted for the thing they now must have known was a lie, in an act of national suicide.  As I say, I was seething, although most of all I was frightened by the prospect of another 5 or 10 years of Conservative attacks, hardships, and what I knew would be coming for many of us. 

Although this morning I awoke to feelings of complete tranquillity and inner calm, as if a huge weight had been lifted from me...I felt freed. To be honest, I was taken aback, so striking and incongruous were these feelings in light of my outlook last night. It dawned on me that the one thing that was different from last night was that I'd relinquished hope, or more to the point...relinquished false hope. I've long seen hope as a dangerous and debilitating thing if not based in reality, and I'd allowed myself to be drawn into hoping for something, that in my heart of hearts, I knew was never going to happen, no matter how much I wanted it too.  I like Jeremy Corbyn, he's man of principle whose political record and long history of support for those who needed support spoke for itself. I agreed with him that we needed a new type of political discourse, I liked many of his policy propositions, and believe he'd have made a great peace time Prime Minister, and therein lies the rub, we're at ideological war and the enemy has the (politico) media industrial complex behind it, the most powerful of weapons. In my opinion Jeremy and the party's policy of non-engagement, of not coming out fighting, was a mistake, allowing the government and predominantly right wing media to salt the ground ensuring the seeds of Labour's messages would never took root, let a lone flourished. I knew there was never a chance of Labour winning, and yet I let myself hope, subconsciously (and consciously if I'm honest) knowing that was hope without a solid foundation. Well, I'm only human.

This quote resonated...''Whoever has nothing to hope, let him despair of nothing'', (Seneca, stoic philosopher 4BC to AD65).

Seasonal stories

The wheel turns, autumn approaches and it's that time of year again when elements of the media, particularly the local press, attempt to manufacture outrage and indignation around mushroom collecting in the New Forest with seasonal stories of mycelial mischief. Of course, they're all nonsense, more myth than fact, although that doesn't stop them.  Furthermore, any small issues which may exist the media ramp up and over play. The irony being that if there are any genuine issues in the forest of over mushroom picking or illegal commercial mushroom picking, and I must emphasise that the if is a big if, they're the consequence of the media's fictitious stories in the first place. Stories telling of foreign pickers profiting handsomely, telling how you could get rich selling mushrooms to fancy restaurants and other such silliness. I can't say that gangs of commercial mushroom pickers don't operate in the forest, although I can say that in 30 years of mushrooming in the forest that I've never seen them, and also, that over that period I've not noticed the range and quantities of the forest's fungal communities decline, beyond natures natural rhythms. You know, thinking about it, the myth of the commercial mushroom picker was born of the same family of xenophobic tropes which brought us to brexit. And, like the straight bananas and Johnson's kippers, it was bollocks...foreigners coming over here and stealing our great British mushroom. First they blamed van loads of Italians, that didn't get traction though, most people liked Italians, their culture, wine, food and so on. So, next they blamed the Eastern Europeans, now, they were foreign enough to dislike and so the myth got traction and became accepted, even though no evidence was ever produced.  It was a plethora of stories like these fed to a gullible and inherently passively racist British population over 40 years that assured that when offered a vote, enough believers would vote self harm...what a glorious nation. I despise the narratives and the ideology behind brexit, and those behind the enterprise, though you have to begrudgingly respect the success of their long game tactics...you have to, they did it, their drip drip over 40 years strategy championed in the face of overwhelming logic and evidence to the contrary.  Anyway, mushrooms are coming.    

Post Brexit national flag

Not well advertised (which may have explained the poor turnout), and without any pomp or ceremony, our post brexit national flag was unveiled in Purbeck this morning.  Up on the Purbeck Ridge, overlooking Corfe Castle, a castle, you don't get a better symbol of sovereignty than that, the apt new red, white and blue symbol of British sovereignty fluttered proudly. It hung on a barbered wire fence, another symbol maybe, this time of a nation imprisoned by a narrative built on a false premiss, that of a Britain that never was. Still, nice to see we've kept the red, white and blue. 

Eel

Walking along Mill Lawn Brook this morning I spotted an Eel, a European Eel (Anguilla anguilla) which is apparently on the critically endangered list, how wonderful to see one here in the forest. A testament to the vitality of the forest streams, and maybe the benefits of the forest's stream restoration program (aptly 40% funded by the EU). I've previously mentioned how the stream restorations have born wonderful fruits, and so quickly, revitalizing rich environments, creating an increased the number of habitats, including niche ones, and hugely increasing biodiversity overall. The streams and their environs are much healthier and more vibrant, as well as the eel, fry darted through the stream, ponies grazed it's banks, deer in the wider environs, whilst a Heron and a Egret looked for dinner from their riverside vantage points amongst thriving wetland plant communities.  As I say, the restoration project is part funded by the EU under the Life 3 scheme, and I have to wonder whether after our departure from the EU such projects will fall by the wayside. I can't imagine our government see environmental projects such as these as a priority. It would be a great shame if the restoration of the forest streams and bog woodland faltered, and the achievements so far neglected. To paraphrase the People's Front of Judea, What have the EU ever done for us? In truth nobody knew how integrated we are in Europe and how much our communities, people, environment, wildlife, our whole nation in fact, has benefited from our unique relationship with the EU. 

Nationalist graffiti

I wonder if we'll ever cure humanities distasteful nationalist and xenophobic tendencies? If you remember 1970's Britain (and the 1980's to a lesser degree) then you'll recognize the conjoined letters carved into the tree. NF, the National Front, racist boot boy bullies, white nationalists trumpeting Britain whilst doing Nazi salutes, to put them simply...the enemy. Ignorant racists, who also enjoyed a whole suit of other intolerances, and most of whom had never met a person of differing culture or ethnicity. Periodically they returned, in the 90's as the BNP, the British National Party and more recently as the EDL the English Defence League, nearly 50 years on, although the acronyms change, the same tired right wing nationalist rhetoric and slogans endure. Currently they're the most vocal and powerful I've known them, Brexit unleashed them, Brexit is based on xenophobia, they say 'not everybody who voted Brexit is a racist, though every racist voted Brexit'. And the same shit is happening all over. Thriving on fear and disenfranchisement, inexhaustible products of our political systems, they'll always find an angry desperate ear that'll listen. Sad times. I was afforded a schadenfreude moment with the most recent immigration figures though, predominantly white Christian Europeans down, predominantly coloured non Christian rest of the world types up, oh the irony, poetic really. And the graffiti is from 1970's, I don't think they made Rays after the 70's.  

What did the Romans ever do for us?

When I walk, I walk for a variety of reasons, it's health and fitness, for the hound, to escape, to think, to connect with nature or to connect with our past. If I'm lucky, I can tick several of those boxes in a walk, and if I'm really lucky I can achieve all of them. Today I was really lucky. Cranborne Chase the destination, our route, a stretch of the Acking Dyke, a Roman road constructed shortly after the invasion of 43AD by the Second Legion Augusta, and which after all the intervening years still remains remarkably well preserved in places. Musing on the Roman road, the ''What did the Romans ever do for us?'' sketch from 'The Life of Brian' came to mind. I thought of the many technological advance the Romans had brought us which faded, along with the Romans after their departure in 410AD, all eventually to be completely forgotten. And asked myself, how does that to happen? Why would a people allow that to happen? Why wouldn't life just carry on as it was, how did they just stop living in one set circumstance, opting instead for a far lesser ones. There's evidence of deserted villas being squatted, though not inside, rather shanty shacks built against the outside walls. We stopped building in stone, building roads, maintaining infrastructure and buildings, the urban population left the towns, the quality of our wares deceased, and industries collapsed, institutions too. Why? Why turn your back on advancement wholesale. Did they fear Roman influence, was it superstition and beliefs or was it out of disdain for the colonizer, the outsider? Even though those colonizers, who'd come from across the known world, had been here for nearly 400 years by then. Whatever it was, it was self defeating, an act of cultural, economic and technological devolution, which took us centuries to crawl out of. Of course, we didn't really need to take that path. We chose to. That got me thinking about Brexit, is 'cutting our noses off to spite our collective faces' a particularly British/English thing? The comparison is compelling. I think, even though the Romans left us, and this time it's us leaving Europe, the end result will surely be comparable...degrees of cultural and economic collapse.  I'm all for Living History, although this is taking it too far! 

Oxbows

It's not until the wet season that you can make out the early 19th century meandering course of Red Rise Brook in one of its un-restored sections. Its truncated oxbows are always there, though they're just easily overlooked, the years have seen them silt up and become colonized by heathland flora, although when water filled you can easily follow the streams pre Victorian course, which meandered similarly to Mill Lawn Brook up stream. I don't know if they intend to restore this section of stream at any point. Though, it's just dawned on that the bog woodland restoration program may cease after brexit, as it's an EU initiative, and EU funded too, so there maybe no more restoration projects in the forest. Another story the landscape will tell.