On Cliff Edges
I once sat next to the crime writer PD James at a dinner. She told me that DNA had destroyed her work and the only safe way to kill anyone these days was to “accidentally” bump them off the White Cliffs. So I walked them today with special care. On the path we met Wendy and Pamplona, two attractive and lively ladies who are totally set on living life to the full. Then further on we chatted to two friendly Canadians, Wendy and Mitch. It’s good to meet such friendly people. A Spitfire did aerobatics.
ZANE and Veterans
In 2017 I met Major Mugamo in Bulawayo (not his real name on grounds of security). He was dying of untreated prostate cancer and he was the great pain. Since 2004 ZANE has represented all the UK services charities in Zimbabwe and we have distributed millions of pounds to veterans who were stranded and destitute on their behalf. But when Rhodesia declared independence in 1980 the UK ceased to fully support those who had fought in the colonial regiments. All the these veterans received was a tiny payment, enough for one meal each day and no medical support whatsoever. They served our Crown and they deserved better.
To cut a long story short, I wrote to the then head of our partner military charity to ask if he would co-chair a new pressure group to seek further funds. Although ZANE agreed to pay for Mugamo’s operation we didn’t have the funds to help the many hundreds of others who were facing destitution. David Richards (now Fieldmarshall) agreed, as did Sir Malcolm Rifkind, the former Foreign Secretary. We approached DFID, and by chance, Bingo! Penny Mordaunt, who was heading it up, agreed.
Some 10,000 veterans across the Commonwealth now get two meals a day. ZANE won a further grant and established a unique basic medical programme to benefit all those veterans and pensioners living in Zimbabwe. This has proved to be a huge success. The lady running the programme in Bulawayo is now sadly retiring after 20 years service. She has been dedicated, loyal and hardworking and she will be hugely missed. It’s a pity we can’t go on forever.
The Gift of Forgiveness
“Purify your hearts, you double-minded”.
These words from the Bible (James 4:8) are about integrity… and fraud.
The trouble with Rachel Reeves is that the errors in her CV all leaned one way – towards making her achievements seem more impressive than they were. The length of time she’d worked at the Bank of England, and the seniority of her role there, were both inflated. She also claimed to have published an article in Political Economy when in fact it was The European Journal of Political Economy – a far less prestigious publication. Perhaps, deep down, she suspects she’s a fraud.
She isn’t alone. A friend elected to Parliament told me that for the first week he wondered how such a fraud – as he knew himself to be – had reached his position. After the second week, he wondered how everyone else had got there!
And it’s not just parliamentarians. Early in their illustrious careers, journalists John Simpson and John Humphrys shared an office at the BBC – and whenever the men in grey suits appeared, they’d chorus, “Okay, we know what you are about to say. We’ll go quietly.” Fortunately, they were mistaken.
Perhaps the knowledge of double-mindedness is one of the reasons for the chronic alcoholism and early deaths of so many supremely talented actors. Richard Burton, Philip Seymour Hoffman and Spencer Tracy – all of whom made a living out of make-believe while trying to fill the emptiness with drink, sex, and drugs – spent their last years aghast at the horror of it all.
The Inner Judge
One of the most terrifying scenes in literature can be found in Arthur Miller’s play Death of a Salesman. Willy Loman is a travelling salesman who knows deep down he’s a fraud. His self-pity drives him to regularly cheat on his wife.
He rationalises, as men often do, “I live a hard life, the sexual act means nothing” – and so on. His only consolation is that his son, Biff, idolises him. But one day Biff turns up unexpectedly in his hotel room and catches him with another woman. It’s excruciating.
Willy tries to swagger. “Now look, Biff – one day you’ll understand these things.” But Biff just stares. Then Willy tries to bully his son and orders him to forget the whole incident.
Biff replies, “You fake, you phony little fake!” Willy falls to his knees, his soul stripped bare of all rationalisations.
When I read this scene, I tremble. Is there a last judgement? Who needs it when we do such a thorough job of judging ourselves?
What wonderful news we’re forgiven.
Overhyped and Overrated
The late Barry Humphries listed his most overrated things, and I have to say I agree with most of them – and have added a few more! In no particular order: Starbucks, French onion soup, Bob Dylan, Niagara Falls, the film Citizen Kane, the Caribbean, all the novels of Virginia Woolf and Patrick O’Brian, Pilates, lobster, Lord of the Rings, most modern art, nearly all sculpture, nearly all modern poetry, Sir Ed Davey, the TV programme Mock the Week, Annabelle’s, Meghan Markle, Las Vegas and all devolved parliaments.
