Waiting on Life

I’ve had some interesting responses following my tiny little rant on ‘where did all the money go’?  One person said that all those billionaires who paid millions for Cypriot citizenship to get access to loose financial controls and high interest rates should now help the banks.

In the main, most ‘Northern’ Europeans are incensed about having their taxes used to bail out ‘southern’ European states, seen as being reluctant to make a contribution towards getting themselves out of a mess of their own making, while expecting the north to pay for everything.  The Cyprus government say the country's fate will be decided today. We wait to see how.

I’m all for billionaires who are hell bent on hoarding money and maintaining lavish lifestyles, established through ill gotten gains and supported by certain banks, to pay. But here’s the thing: the ordinary citizen who has worked hard all their life and paid taxes and in every sense “done the right thing” must pay too.

Yesterday I heard some fifteen year old school children talking about how the recession and austerity had impacted them. Many either had a parent or knew someone in the family of friends who was out of work as a result of redundancy in the last year. Unable to find a job, they survive on rapidly dwindling savings. The thing the young people noticed most was that there was not enough food to eat. 

For a child to say that in a G8 country in the 2lst Century is just criminal; plain and simple. When would a British government consider it okay to uniliterally grab a percentage of the meagre savings of ordinary households, now used to survive day to day, on top of the already exorbitant taxes paid on every purchase? That would be grossly unfair in the face of rising costs and the cynicism of those bankers to still get millions in annual bonuses.

Yes, I know, who said Life was fair?

But it seems to me that there’s something odd going on this time; this is no ordinary recession, and Life has not yet shown us the full picture. I myself have been waiting on Life to show me what’s going for some time now.

My friend Neville called from Jamaica last week. I dread his question: “Have you completed the book yet?” he says. Neville has been asking this question for the last three years. This time I can say yes I have completed it but have not yet sent it to the agent who has asked me to submit some specific things.

“Well?” says Neville, “What are you waiting for?”

Good question; I don’t know the answer. I’m waiting on Life to tell me, and in the meantime, during a time of austerity, the beggar's friends Jasmine and Judith make sure he has enough to eat.

South African author Wilbur Smith says he cannot write until his archetypes speak. I get that completely. I don't have a problem with my archetypes speaking; in fact I can’t shut them up. I’m waiting on Life which speaks via songs, movies, news bulletins, magazine and newspaper articles, in TV and radio programmes, in the chance utterances of friends, and through events in the world – in metaphor and symbolism.

While I’m waiting, I’ll do a blog.