St. Tropez

Hey, squishypeanut, remember how I said that the sheer orangness of David Dickinson was even worse in real life? Well, behold the marvel of the perma-tanned contrast in colour, here. Also remember that this is high summer in Edinburgh, the people in the pic are not especially pale... the mind boggles.

( Read more... )

If You Tolerate This...

I’ve just finished reading (and re-reading) Orwell’s Homage to Catalonia, and I should have known better. Nothing and nobody can work me up into a passion of beliefs as much as Orwell can. Anyway, it details Orwell’s experience in volunteering for the communist fighters during the Spanish Civil War of the 30s, and the subsequent “betrayal” of their beliefs by in-fighting and vested interests.

I for one don’t believe in communism, but *I do* believe in the working man, and the sheer optimism and goodwill that the Spanish peasants had, and the heaven they thought they glimpsed in the initial stages of the war. Orwell details their hope and their pain and the ultimate futility of their actions with eloquent, tender observations, as always. My heart aches for the many who gave their lives for what was, ultimately, futile, and their actions are so little remembered today, actions inspired by that honest, if idealistic goal. It’s a brilliant book, detailing both sides, and I highly recommend it. And now, because the Manic Street Preachers song it inspired has been going through my head for days, I need to transfer it to you:

The future teaches you to be alone
The present to be afraid and cold
So if I can shoot rabbits
Then I can shoot fascists

Bullets for your brain today
But we’ll forget it all again
Monuments put from pen to paper
Turns me into a gutless wonder

And if you tolerate this
Then your children will be next
And if you tolerate this
Then your children will be next

Gravity keeps my head down
Or is it maybe shame
At being so young and being so vain

Holes in your head today
But I’m a pacifist
I’ve walked Las Ramblas
But not with real intent

And on the street tonight an old man plays
With newspaper cuttings of his glory days

If you tolerate this
Then your children will be next
And if you tolerate this
Then your children will be next