Laughter & Forgetting

BY JAMIE FOSTER

There was always a danger when our highest court was called Supreme a time would come when we would have to discover whether a court can be both supreme and independent. A group of parliamentarians is currently lobbying the government to put off that moment and not to appeal a high court’s view, presumably in case a higher court takes a decision they consider to be of lower worth. We live in strange times.

I make no prophecy as to the outcome. Those who tell you what the future will hold forget they weren’t able to predict the present. I prefer to hold my counsel, or at least to dream of it.

Let me reminisce:

We have recently remembered the fallen, as is right and proper. We have also been left with some glamorous images of a past that may have contained more mundanity than we give it credit for. The temptation to repeat the mistakes of our forefathers in the hope that we are more civilised than them is almost overwhelming. We are in a time of precious babies and dirty bathwater. We dress to kill, as we have done since we became fond of scrumping for the truth. I am as guilty as anyone else. I have worn Hugo Boss raincoats and Avirex jackets because I liked the way they looked on me. I have driven Volkswagens because, in many ways, they are the best cars in the world.

The beauty of circles is they have no sides. The beauty of sides is skipping back and forth across them just for the joy of the lightness of life. I will never forget the kind words of a border guard on my way back from TJ when I foolishly rested my pink anaconda boots on the dashboard of the Dodge for comfort. “Sit up straight boy, you’ll give yourself a backache.” I smiled. We drove on. I’m glad he forgot to ask for my passport because I had left it in Long Beach on a Sunseeker.

So while the great and the good talk of cabbages and kings I remember those who have touched me with a fondness bordering on enthusiasm. My grandparents drove a Ford Transit camper van from Portsmouth to Calcutta in the 70s. Across the Khyber Pass and the Persian desert. My Nanny was allowed to drive just the once, on a stretch of sand so long there was almost no horizon. It was the only time they crashed into another vehicle on the entire trip.

It would be a beautiful world in which we could all travel freely for love and return home for money without any being spent on trying to kill us. The baby, incremental steps that would require leave the journey appearing as long as it ever has. Which is no reason to stop travelling.

I do not intend to make a song and dance about this particular piece. If it appears contrived and crass to you put it down to the aspirations of a talentless wannabe. If you like it and it makes you smile I smile with you. I look forward to the prospect of normal service being resumed by Christmas. I suspect we have all made that mistake before.

Advertisements

4 thoughts on “Laughter & Forgetting

  1. Ha, ha that passport anecdote reminds me of a time I was taking the train from Aswan to Luxor in Egypt. After buying tickets – my girlfriend being shouted at for joining the men’s queue, we walked onto the platform to be greeted by a very well dressed train guard. ‘Cairo’ he asked? ‘No Luxor I replied’. ‘You take my train. Passport please.’ I handed over my passport only for him to turn and sprint off down the platform. I looked at my girlfriend. ‘After him’ she said. A Benny Hill style chase ensued around the train station where I lost him in the crowd. We boarded the train. Looking out of the window for a policeman. when suddenly with a jerk we were away to Luxor. I thought I’d lost my passport and would need to contact the consulate in Cairo when the door to our cabin opened and in walked the guard, tea and cake on a tray with my passport and new tickets for the journey. Phew.

    Liked by 1 person

  2. “I make no prophesy as to the outcome. Those who tell you what the future will hold forget they weren’t able to predict the present. I prefer to hold my counsel, or at least to dream of it.”
    👍

    Like

Comments Function No Longer Available

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s