I believe that at time of writing (mid-morning on the May bank holiday) a temperature record has already been putatively broken somewhere in England – the highest lowest night time temperature, so to speak, for May. Somewhere down south, it didn’t drop below 19 Celsius. And it is anticipated that today the highest highest temperature, as it were, somewhere up in the mid-thirties Celsius, will be achieved. Up here, things are less tropical, and most people are grateful for it. There was even a threat of rain yesterday morning, though by the time I reached Glasgow for a lunch appointment in the west end, it was a glorious sunny day with temperatures in the low twenties. Mindful of the adage, “Ne’er cast a cloot, till May is oot”, I duly cast a cloot, because of course May doesn’t refer to the month, but rather May blossom, the hawthorn, which has burgeoned in all its magnificence.
I heard an Aussie on the radio, saying she couldn’t understand what all the fuss was about. Right enough, I remember when I was working in Brisbane, Queensland, it was regularly 37 Celsius by about 7.30 in the morning. I loved it. I used to go out for a run in the afternoon sun. A couple of times, before it was considered to be not-the-done thing, I ran up Uluru, in the Hot Red Centre, in temperatures of 44 degrees. Mad dogs and Scotsmen. I can only once remember feeling stressed out during a run in the heat. It was in Albert Park in Melbourne, where they hold the Grand Prix, when it so happened it was very hot and also very windy, a deadly combination. I remember I just ran through all the water sprinklers in order to keep cool.
Here, it’s a great talking point, the weather. Characteristically, somebody has already said to me, “Aye, we’ll miss it!” This is supposed to me the time for fixing leaks in the roof, both figuratively and literally. In a time of abundance, we are supposed to be laying down stocks in reserve, for a time of scarcity. But like the foolish virgins, we can usually think of something better to do, later to hold up our hands in dismay at the arrival of the beast from the east. I’ve forgotten precisely what it was the foolish virgins neglected to do. Something to do with trimming the oil lamps. It always seems to be a shortage of oil that’s at the bottom of all human ructions. Anyway the wise virgins were apparently not inclined to help the foolish virgins out. You made your bed, now lie in it – which does not seem very christianly.
Politicians are acutely conscious of the weather, the political weather. Their current modus operandi is to stick a wet finger in the air, see whence the wind blows, and act accordingly. There is, for example, current controversy about the apparent leniency of a sentence handed down by a judge upon a group of children found guilty of a very serious crime. That the public may hold an opinion on this judgment, and express it, is all well and good. But it seems to me that the last person on earth who should express such an opinion, one way or another, is the Prime Minister. The Prime Minister is “appalled”. Is not there supposed to be a clear distinction between the executive and the judiciary?
But people in positions of power court, that is, woo, public opinion. The police have invited all-comers to submit a complaint, should they so wish, about Andrew Mountbatten-Windsor. I have absolutely no opinion about the alleged misdemeanours of the naval officer formerly known as Prince, but the idea that you can invite the public en masse to level accusations against an individual who, no matter how beleaguered, is innocent until proven guilty, is a recipe for disaster, as damaging as the indiscriminate trawling of the sea bed. You would have thought the police of all people would be well acquainted with the reality of complaints that are both mischievous and vexatious, without actively going out to look for them. There is already a perfectly adequate mechanism in place, whereby somebody who is the victim of a crime can report the circumstances to the police, just as the victim of a miscarriage of justice can make an appeal.
The current ructions within the Labour Party seem to me to be largely a response to political climate. Their malcontents are dismayed, not so much at government policy, as by the polls. They are terrified of Nigel Farage. You would have thought the rational thing, indeed the honourable thing to do would be to take Mr Farage on in terms of his policies, take him to task, and present the electorate with something better. But no. Instead, they brief against the PM, because they believe he has become an electoral liability. Well, let’s see what happens. You might say the only thing that is certain is that come the next general election we will get the government, and the Prime Minister, we deserve.
But you can’t say that up here, where the climate is different. Quite the opposite. Down in Westminster, judging from past experience, we are highly likely to get a government we didn’t ask for.
jamescalumcampbell 