And so that momentous event of 20 january 2017 has passed: my son’s 13th birthday. It has been an all-consuming business, so much so that I have hardly noticed the comings and goings on the other side of the atlantic, or maybe I am still trying denial on for size. Life is busy: home, family, work taking up every nook and cranny of my existence. Late nights, early mornings, hardly a moment for reflection or relaxation, or perhaps all this is in fact relaxation of sorts, or at least enjoyment. Our big event (see and the wonderful) is on is 4th february, around which we have wrapped a whole weekend of friends and family, if not from the 4 corners…

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I thought I’d get in early with my “2016, what a year !”. So: 2016, what a year ! I predicted it would be the year of leaving (see 1 january 2016). Sad to say I was right, though my crystal ball didn’t extend across the atlantic (though my other half’s did). John oliver and the rest of us can outrage all we want, but here we are, with that incredible photo of farage in trump’s gold lift the photo of the era. This is who we are now. Whilst there isn’t, nor is there likely to be, any imminent catastrophe, history has turning points. This was one, and it will have consequences. 1995 was one, at least in my…

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The world is atwitter with news about trump’s new ambassador to israel and their intention to move the israeli embassy in tel aviv to jerusalem. Whilst it shouldn’t be, to do so would be a very incendiary move, in what is, almost literally, a tinderbox. The situation, whilst unusually out of the spotlight, is not calm, with deaths, seemingly as ever, of both israelis and palestinians. One of the vicious settler gang that firebombed a palestinian home in the village of douma, killing 3 including an 18-month old baby, was finally brought to trial. As the world has looked away this last while, aghast at syria, exasperated at the israel-palestine conflict’s stubborn refusal to submit to compromise, many small steps…

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Trump. Moving swiftly on, or back, to brexit. The phoney war continues. In the background, the parties as ever, keenly assessing how their stance is going to play out. Labour, like a rabbit caught in the headlights, seems incapable of firming up its stance, in the hope that by neither being seen to challenge the referendum’s “democratic decision” nor too much alienating “the 48%”, it has a way through to bernie sanders-like (non) victory. It does not. The reason the scottish nationalist party did and do so very well (see 9 may 2015, 331 not out) is that over the last years, scottish politics has reorientated itself most strongly around a single fulcrum issue: independence. On one side, splendidly alone,…

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The furore around the british high court deciding parliament must vote on article 50, the trigger that starts the process of leaving the eu (see 3 july 2017, article 50 ways to leave your lover) misses the point. It’s relatively straightforward that as when the uk joined, parliament passed the 1972 european communities act, so before a decision that sets in train a process that may lead remorselessly to its repeal, it is logical, even obvious, that parliament must similarly vote. It is worth noting in passing that the torrid, even trumpian, abuse the judges received for simply doing their job, rings of the nasty and vituperative air that led to an mp being murdered during the campaign. Brexit will…

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Netanyahu (see 18 april 2015, bibin there, done that) was the arch rival of peres, but for once had an appropriate remark, that yesterday was the first in the history of the state of israel without shimon. Would that he had been so eloquent in the vicious and virulent remarks he made and tolerated in the days that led, directly, to the assassination of rabin, peres’s other long-time rival but by then, finally, friend, lauded as a brother-in-arms in the very last speech he ever made, the night he was shot. I was in the square that night, weeping with the rest, understanding that israel has somehow changed. As he was at almost every junction in israel’s history, peres was…

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Saw the wonderful performance of the pianist of willesden lane at the weekend; well worth the watch. It resonated both as we lived just the other end of the very same lane, but also, for everyone, because of its relevance to so many themes of the day. Lucky enough to speak to the author and star afterwards, daughter of the kindertransport refugee the play was about, hers was a paean to the generosity of the british people that took in 10, 000 children. Whither that generosity now was the question no-one asked. It would though have been a little harsh. Not only because it wasn’t a question for mona, but also because a legitimate view is that britain has still…

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Whilst you would think the french would be the first aux armes to defend a woman’s right to wear whatever clothes she wants, fear and symbolism seem to have somehow crashed through common sense to create the “burkini” bans sweeping its beaches, though mercifully now hopefully stopped in its tracks. At root is a deep french faith in secularism, despite its catholic mores, which led in 2004 to an outrageous ban in schools on ostentatious symbols of faith, like the muslim headscarf, jewish kippah and large christian crosses. The same logic led to the burkini ban, but this was openly fanned by a wave of rampant islamophobia in certain quarters. In nice it might officially be to secure public order,…

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I’m news’d out. In our terribly suburbanite life-trajectory, summer holidays are school-constrained to the august hot-and-expensive slot. Still, away we go. Holidays always have a pull, to somewhere and something exciting and relaxing, but they also have a push: away from work, everyday drudgery, stresses and household chores. Once upon a time I really missed news when abroad, buying a day-old english newspaper whenever I had the chance and reading it cover-to-cover on the beach, packing my shortwave radio to get yesterday’s football results. No more: now even on holiday news surrounds us. And the news has been getting ever more pervasive, ever more 24/7, ever more breathless, driven by instantaneous reaction becoming the next event. And even though I…

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