After Paris

What have I learned since leaving 90s Paris? I’ve learned that every so often I have to put on the Joan Jett version of I Love Rock and Roll. I have to put it on and forget that I was ever interested in socialist politics, forget about subservience to the endless and pitiful stress that accompanies being committed to impossible causes, and definitely forget that I was once a communist. And after I’ve shaken myself out completely in rhythmic homage to the goddess of rock, I’ve learned to be at one with the little man inside who continues, peaceably and resiliently with, “from each according to his ability to each according to his need.” I’ve learned that ideas are like partners: there are so many, many beautiful types, all so attractive in their very different ways, but once you’ve chosen to live with one, you have to be prepared to pay your subscription to fidelity and get down to some hard work if you’re ever really going to succeed with the relationship, and then one’s tastes in ideas and partners regularly changes. Ah yes, I’ve learned all about the ecstasy of contradiction. I’ve learned that though I shouldn’t eat ice cream for health reasons, it goes well with chopped banana and chocolate sauce, and I think I’ll just take the good with the bad. And that goes for Coca Cola with ice and lemon, cold Hoegaarden White, lamb tikka masala, chicken biriani, peshwari nan and lamb saclik, raspberry trifle with sherry drenched sponge, Blenz caffe mocha, Costa Chocolissimo Latte, North Yorkshire scones with real salted butter, strawberry jam and fresh whipped cream, fish curry, Sicilian pizza, Red Leicester cheese with pineapple chunks and ham off the bone, peanut butter and honey on toast, cold roast chicken legs with Heinz mayonnaise, Cadbury’s Dairy Milk chocolate and Mars Galaxy from the freezer compartment, Christmas Stollen, Panettone and Pandoro, fish ‘n’ chips wrapped in paper, New York Cheesecake, Tiramisu, traditional English pancakes with sugar and lemon juice, Dunkin’ D’s’ lemon doughnuts, moules mariniere, Canary melon and Schinken, prawn balls with sweet ‘n’ sour sauce, fresh fruit salad in rum syrup…I mean I could go on for a very long time. I’ve learned that if I want my body to be in shape it ain’t going to happen sitting on a bean bag propped up against the end of my king size watching mindless American formula or up-their-own arse British art flicks on DVD. I’ve learned that outdoor sports do it for me in a way that indoor gyms never can. I’ve learned that all the drugs I ever did – and I got around the briefcase – were over-hyped and the downs always lasted so much longer than the ups, so, so much longer. I’ve learned to smell fruit before I take it home; all fruit. I’ve learned that selflessness isn’t on the whole a characteristic inherent in human beings, in fact it’s up against an opponent far more innate, but if you practise, you can get quite good at it. I’ve learned that it’s possible to do most of the hardest things if you just practice; the routine turns into habit then it’s the “doing” of habit that enables development, and boy is that true of environmental-friendliness and safe sex. It doesn’t really go for gymnastics once you’re past a certain age, which is a shame because I’d like to be able to tumble. I’ve learned that there are many beautiful sounds in this world, and good muzak is only one of them. I’ve learned that the weather and the earth combine to make a formidable orchestra, and I can listen to its arias, sonatas, concertos and symphonies for hours. I’ve learned that the sciences and arts don’t dialogue enough and on the rare occasions they do, ego usually spoils or confounds progress. I’ve witnessed the power of pornography and still marvel at how little the Yanks and Limeys are prepared to discuss its impact, whether good or bad. I’ve learned that political correctness is all too often just a way of avoiding having to tackle the really important issues, you know the ones, entrenched, endemic, the ones you have to get your hands a little dirty and sometimes a little bit bloody too to deal with; at its worst pc-ism is nothing more than conceited, pseudo-intellectual faff, it’s not having fun without any of the benefits of not having fun, so from me it very consummately gets the finger. I’ve learned to feel species shame, and remorse towards all the other organisms we share this earth with, but still have a soft spot for human beings. I’ve learned that foxes don’t deserve such bad press, especially from the very same walk-on-two-legs beasts who manage with relative ease far more killing and maiming of one another and other crawly things, directly or indirectly, than the poor old common fox.  “Oh foxes, they’re horrible, they just kill for the sake of it…” Hmmm…is that so. I’ve learned that as intensely as I used to advocate the use of public transport for the sake of the ecology, so I do now love my car for its privacy, precision and reliability and that hypocrisy washes off me as easily as that old mollie cool H2O off a mallard’s back. The one area where I remain constant is school; I have always and do still despise most forms of conventional education for the myriad doors they close on young people’s learning when they open the gates of their own curricula. The most important thing I’ve learned is that there is not a damn living soul on this planet with any of the answers to any of my most pressing questions. So I’ve stopped asking them. I’ve learned instead to swing high on the garden swing, feel the wind in what remains of my hair (quite a bit it has to be said) and just smile. Oh, and enjoy sex the way I enjoy jumping from a great height into water.