Saturday, 12 November 2016

Hope is for the Hopeful

My, my, there's a lot going on isn't there? But having said that I don't think I'm overly-qualified to comment on it, still less have an opinion. I know what you are thinking, that this has never stopped me before. You are right, and it is true that I'm probably more qualified than you to have an opinion on most things, because I do know a lot of stuff.

But just lately, well, so many people have been encroaching onto my territory, the one of unqualified opinion about anything and everything, that I have even begun to bore myself. And no-one wants that. It is also a circular argument that I'm fairly certain I have used before, saying that I am not going to pontificate, or make a song and dance about it, is a fairly paradoxical when you are blogging about it on a Google-owned social media site.

But it's a bit more than that. I'm not sure I like the direction I've been taking myself in.

When I was young, I worried about a lot of things, with what I felt was a kind of quiet intensity. I occasionally discussed these with my friends, but for the most part, just got on with the activities available to young people in the late seventies and eighties. Or the land of "three television channels" as I like to think of it. The drab, everything-closed-on-a-Sunday world, inhabited by nothing-to-do and "we made our own entertainment" nostalgia freaks. But it was OK, and it seemed a slower world, where there was less edge to everything.

But at the time, open warfare in Northern Ireland, Apartheid in South Africa, the Cold War and constant threat of imminent Mutually Assured Destruction, all seemed like pretty big and intractable problems. Nowadays we have Brexit, ISIS and the election of an Entertainer-in-Chief to worry about. I know I'm now 52 instead of 22, but somehow these 21st century things don't seem worth the worry and energy that even I've been putting into them. Given my eighties worries are, if not solved, at least less of a concern, I'm fairly sure things will turn out OK in the end for the trivial matters we have now. Or failing that we can just ignore them and hope they go away.

I had a lovely bit of escapism yesterday. Took the day off work and rode my bike with a great bunch of people. The day did go on slightly longer than I expected, and I was glad to finally make it home just before my front light's battery gave up the ghost. It involved hills, frequent (maybe too frequent!) stops for cake, chips, fudge (which isn't breaking my current no-chocolate rule and was justified on energy grounds), hills, gorges, dark and exposed moors, wooded valleys, views of the Bristol Channel (the night-time one was particularly fantastic from the top of Elworthy Hill), watching the local carnival floats on trucks in convoy to North Petherton, (their destination today I believe) and the local Friday nightlife of Taunton and Bridgwater.

Here are some great pictures taken by Paul Rainbow of Audax Club Bristol.

Whilst it's pretty true to say that while today I feel physically jaded, it was the first 200km+ ride I'd done for a couple of months, so was always going to be a bit hard, mentally I feel fantastic. It's not just the endorphin rush either, though that helps. I think it was the wonderful spirit everyone had on the ride, everyone really enjoying themselves, lots of laughs, and, the most important bit is this. Absolutely no sourness, sarcasm, clever-cleverness, just fun, good cycling and well, joy. Remember those three - fun, good cycling and joy.

Since I started my gratitude journal a couple of months ago, I would say that my perspective on the everyday has changed. Have you noticed the leaves in the UK at the moment? I don't know about you, but they are the most colourful Autumn spectacle I have ever seen. There were lots on display yesterday. And sunrises? And the food on the table? There is no end to it. This may seem a trifle sanctimonious to you. If that is the case, well, I'm sorry for you. Of course I still care about access to the Single Market, and the fate of the people of Syria, and the life my cousins will lead in America.

I've just got to the point where I have to look on the bright side a bit more. Who knows, maybe we can all get along without the cynicism and aggressiveness that seems to characterise so much of our discussion on these issues.