How can you see a gap? It’s something we’d only notice if we could see both sides, right? Just as on the London Tube – the name the locals gave to their underground railways – there are announcements of “Mind The Gap!”
Because there is a gap between the carriage and the platform.
The gap I speak of here, however, lies in our ability to think. It is the gap between what we do think and what humans are capable of thinking.
I’ve known this since I lived in Germany back in the 1980s: Britain simply doesn’t get Europe. Britain has this idea that the Continent of Europe somehow needs its appendage – its appendix? That is to say, Britain is in a place of its own and it knows that through its superior culture and business practices it is the envy of the world. In short: Europeans are crazy to even let us go. Leave alone demand terms.
Look at Britain! They have motorcar industries, banking and fisheries… but then, so does Romania. Albeit the banks aren’t quite as impressive, their connection to Europe by way of railways is actually a lot better than Britain seems to think. Continue reading “This Isn’t About Britain!”→
A very long time ago, I visited the British Museum in London. In their great hall where they display their collection of monumental sculptures there stood two enormous creatures. They stand well over six metres high, that is nearly twenty feet and must weigh several tons. I knew they stood as guardians to the entrances to palaces in ancient Assyria, and as guardians were shown as godlike figures having human heads with bull’s bodies or that of a lion – and the wings of an eagle. Continue reading “The Five Legged Beasts Of Nineveh.”→
It would be in October that I received a telephone call. Unfortunately they didn’t leave a message and I thought no more of it. A week or so later and they phoned me again; in a reprise of the situation, I was not at home and as usual, had left my mobile phone at home. Mobile phones are handy, but given the fact that so few people phone me it’s the sort of thing I am prone to forget until I arrive at the railway station.
Having found another missed call with the same number, I did what would be expected of me, and that is to phone them back. I got as far as the switchboard of my housing corporation. The people who rent me my flat.
No, not my flat; their flat. It is important to remember these things: it might be my home, it is most certainly their house.
My problem was that the lady on the switchboard hadn’t a clue who had phoned me or why. Nobody had told her anything, nobody had told me anything. Situation normal here in Holland. Continue reading “Two Hundred And Twelve.”→
Between visiting galleries at the weekend and being at home, my life doesn’t speak of much. In fact, yesterday I was extremely bored, so much so that I really couldn’t get anything done. Anything I turned my hand to was met with a ready excuse that it didn’t need doing.
So, here I am, leaving Germany the day before the fun of the elections. But then, this is Germany, where elections are staid affairs, so missing one isn’t going to be the end of the world. What will be interesting will be to see if the AfD – the “Alternative für Deutschland” (Germany’s alternative) – increase their share of the vote. No, this isn’t how America does things: it’s not “if” but by how much they improve their share of the vote.
Britain is, and always will be a very odd place to live for anyone who is used to the way Europeans live. Storms in the English channel that stop the ferries running between Dover and Calais are always headlined as “Continent Cut Off”. The British point of view is nothing if not eccentric. Britain, that small island just off the northern coast of Europe, is something of an afterthought in the mind of the average European.
Now I have lived in Europe for the better part of my life, and if there is one thing that has been consistent to any of the countries I lived in – Denmark, Germany and latterly, the Netherlands – it is the lack of understanding about Britain’s place in Europe. Here in Europe, it is necessary to register one’s place of abode, and on no few occasions, that is to say, in each case of registering, I had been asked to show that I, as a Briton, had the correct papers to allow me to live and work in their country.
I pleaded that Britain was a member of the European Union.
The response was as consistent as it was confused: “Britain is not a member of the European Union” later this changed to “Britain isn’t in the Eurozone.” After all, any European country of any sensible size was a member of the Eurozone, the gathering of countries who use the Euro as their currency. Ergo: if you weren’t in the Eurozone, you weren’t in the European Union.
Britain has a healthy economy, and it has a healthy economy because the economic figures are healthy. It’s how Britain – and the British – do business. We all do it, we all look to the paperwork: we all look to the figures at some point in the reckoning. Even when buying a bar of chocolate there’s the evaluation of quality over price; and that goes for Aldi too, who have various kinds of chocolate for the unwilling spender.
Britain, however, is a very different place than Europe. It’s as if there’s a real divide between the European economies and Britain in as real a way as there are twenty miles of seawater between them. There are few enough Europeans who understand the British mind – and an economy is the result of a cultural mindset. The British, for all their intelligence, are stumped when it comes to European minds and the economies they create. And the Americans are even worse because they’re so deluded as to think what’s right for them is right for everybody.