62. Brit election: special?

Farron in the Hate Mail

Tim Farron – he’s local & he’s vocal

Interesting times… (Cliché alert – Collins suggests ‘Intriguing’ but that sounds just as hackneyed while reverberating with an unwarranted positivity)

Liberal Democrat leader Tim Farron may have since ‘clarified his position’ but he continues to be in a conspicuous minority when it comes to campaigning MPs, not to mention party leaders, who have more than a tokenistic faith.

Which begs the question, would you rather vote for someone who has a rigid set of moral beliefs, or a flexible outlook that changes when diplomacy (or the need to find more voters) dictates?

And in this particular example, someone who is prepared to vote along secular lines for a more inclusive society, whatever their personal beliefs, or who abstains on LGBT issues if they fear taking sides would lose a precious chunk of voters?

I have no answers. I still don’t know how I’m going to vote. In this messed-up world of smoke and mirrors (and the damage done?) I’m glad I’m in the UK this year, thereby able to have a say, witness ‘history’ and harrumph to my heart’s content (my hooraying days being well and truly over).

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61. Adrian Mole: pre-Moleskine antihero

Long before a generation of wannabe writers got hip to Moleskine notepads and pledged to take themselves a bit too seriously, there was Adrian Mole urging us not to go there – way back in 1982. As Adrian reluctantly admits in Sue Townsend’s superlative The Secret Diary of Adrian Mole, Aged 13¾: ‘I have a problem. I am an intellectual, but at the same time I am not very clever.’

The advice was there for the taking but, like 20 million others, I was too busy laughing my head off to take it to heart. Something I did take seriously was the merits of keeping a diary as a way of recording the stuff of life – from the momentous to the minutiae: marriage, death and crap sitcom ideas – they’re all in there. Even now I find there’s a certain Adrian-ness about some of my diary entries, not all of it affected to commemorate his 50th birthday (e.g. from last week: ‘Future seems uncertain. She’s been offered a job overseas and Trump has started bombing people’.)

This juxtaposing of personal impotence and global importance became a hallmark of Townshend’s rare, edgy and hilarious talent. I was underage when I found The Secret Diary – still a little way off 13¾. On reading it I was frankly terrified. A sheltered child, I had yet to own up to my own puberty; reading Adrian’s diary made the journey into teenhood seem baffling, disturbing, yet – presumably – fairly normal. Once I started to laugh at Adrian, I started to laugh at myself. My heart broke for him, but through him I slowly realised I could no longer assume I was the virgin product of a world geared solely around my needs, wants and moods.

Realising we’re not as clever as we think we are is a work-in-progress for most of us. Recognising how clever, funny and compassionate Sue Townsend was is easy.

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Adrian Mole, c’est nous!