Day 4: Fort Apache, Gillingham to Lower Halstow

We left Gillingham and ended up in the village of Upchurch., The weather was a mix of violent rain and blue skies. But it was a good walk with lunch in The Crown and tended by delightful Cheryl with a megawatt smile and a bubbling personality to match.

Compassionate Clarification

I read in The times yet another Bishop is berating Farage for not being “compassionate” in his views on immigration.

“Compassionate “ is an overworked word. There is no such thing as a ‘compassionate” politician when he or she is performing his or her public role. Anyone can be “compassionate” spraying around other people’s money. Let me explain further. The Good Samaritan was being compassionate when he assisted the traveller beaten by robbers, for that was his private initiative out of the goodness of his heart. However if Caesar had decreed that the Samaritan should help him and paid him to do so, then the man was merely doing his job. It’s not Farage’s job – or that of any politician – to be “compassionate”. Their job is to win votes and get elected.

And bishops would be wise to steer clear of emotive topics for they are vastly complex.

For example, what may be compassionate to the immigrant in providing them with a house may well infuriate the UK taxpayer, who not only has to pick up the bill but also finds that there are insufficient houses left for them and their family. It’s a question that needs an answer: Do politicians assist immigrants first or the UK voters who put them in office?

It’s the politicians who have to grapple with this, not the bishops.

First-World Whinging

Dear ZANE supporter, aren’t we a lucky lot?  Yes, I know all about the cost of living, the awfulness of the present government, illegal immigrants, the difficulties facing the wife and kids, and our inability to get an Uber on a rainy day.

But we must count our blessings… Look around, and you’ll see some of the luckiest people in the world, living their best lives in a stable country. The reason immigrants are streaming into the UK is because they reckon it’s the place to be. None of us are short of food, healthcare or housing. None of our young have been corralled into uniform and sent off to war to kill strangers – like our grandparents were.

Most of us have enough money, and can go where we like, when we like. We can take nice holidays, have access to lifesaving medicines and live in pleasant enough places. Our courts are fair, and we have freedom of speech – and where this is in question, we can campaign without fear of imprisonment. Our political system is not corrupt, and our police do not shoot first and ask questions second or torture us. The rubbish is collected, and houses are being built.

Lighten Up

I visited my grandfather’s grave the other day – he died of a ruptured appendix in 1893. That night, I dreamt he asked me, “How is life today?” I told him we haven’t had a world war in my lifetime – and about the relief of poverty, our present social services, universal pensions, the NHS and much more.   

The old ghost sighed. “What lucky sods you all are, Tom!” he said quietly. “I doubt that anyone has ever had it as good as you do. How happy everyone must be!”

I laughed until tears poured down my face. “Happy? People do nothing but complain. They read the papers, watch TV and look at social media – and they find themselves submerged in a bog of misery, victimhood and “Oooh, isn’t it all awful!”

Dear friends. Lighten up, look around and have a laugh. Get a sense of proportion, read some history books and remember our bloody past. Be thankful you’re living in 2025 with up-to-date dentistry and hip replacement surgery.

Nothing matters very much, and most things don’t matter at all. I’ve learnt not to worry about things when I can’t affect the outcome. Nothing I can do will make the slightest difference to Israel, Netanyahu, Trump or even Starmer (until the next election, that is).

I expect the same applies to you but take a moment to reflect on your life over the past year and take a view of the outlook for the coming one. (Of course, I know some of you are facing real tragedy, and I send you a bear hug of sympathy.)

Delete Facebook and use both the Telegraph and the Guardian as cat litter. Deal?

Woozle

We assume, as a democracy, that our voters are intelligent – and that this collective wisdom will produce fairer laws than those inflicted on societies by dictators. However, Churchill disagreed, remarking, “The best argument against democracy is a five-minute conversation with the average voter.”

I have fought five elections – and even won some of them. Yet when I look back, it isn’t the rigours of intellectual debate that come to mind, but rather the story of the Woozle. Do you remember it? Winnie the Pooh was walking in the snow when he noticed tracks behind him. He grew fearful and became convinced he was being stalked by a Woozle. Soon, another set of tracks appeared and then there were two Woozles!

Of course, Christopher Robin spoiled things by pointing out Pooh was walking in circles. 

Round and round the government goes – and voters whirl in tandem.

Debt and Denial

When sober, former European Commission President Jean-Claude Juncker once quipped, “We all know what to do to balance the nation’s books. The problem is that if we do it, we won’t get re-elected.”

This is why the manifestos at the last election were pure Woozle. We’ve run out of money and we’re deep in hock. Soon we’ll be unable to borrow money at any price. Already, our debt interest outstrips spending on defence and education. The lenders are watching.

Recall Greece and its debt crisis – the poorest were hit the hardest. Joblessness and despair soared, while the rich – as they always do – kept on building swimming pools. That’s what awaits us here. Instead of levelling with voters and launching a national survival campaign, what do our gutless governments offer voters? A quadruple lock for pensioners, no material cutbacks on ballooning social spending, fuel subsidies, and tax hikes on the wealthiest – who then bugger off out of the country.

The truth is voters don’t want reality. Politicians pretend that fairies lurk at the bottom of the garden, that there’s such thing as a bargain and that two and two can make five. Our baby voters demand more services yet lower taxes; more homes but not near them; cheap care homes but no more low-skilled immigration; new infrastructure but with their rights of veto intact.

As the promises inevitably fail, leaders come and go in quick succession: Cameron, May, Johnson, Truss, Sunak, Starmer – here today and gone tomorrow. Others will follow and they too will fail to deliver. No one dares to explain to voters that the promises were always risible and that by voting for dummies, they have made themselves the authors of their own betrayal.

A poem by Stephen Crane:

“I saw a man pursuing the horizon;
Round and round they sped.
I was disturbed at this;
I accosted the man.
‘It is futile,’ I said,
‘You can never –’
‘You lie,’ he cried,
And ran on.”

Where is today’s Christopher Robin? When it all finally unravels, it’ll be our turn to cry as we flee. And we will comfort ourselves with the excuse that no one ever warned us about the Woozle.

Playing the Long Game

When Pierre Monteux was appointed principal conductor of the London Symphony Orchestra at the age of 86, he insisted on a 25 year contract – with an option to renew at the end!