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Lynne Patrick

Hope Springs

Spring as a rule is officially my favourite season, blessed with tweeting chicks, cute little lambs drinking from baby bottles, daffodils in bountiful bloom, chocolate eggs, rebirth and lighter nights. New life and optimism plus a license to eat sweets for breakfast, lunch and evening meal the entire Easter weekend. What’s there not to love? This year it should be even more so as we ready ourselves for the arrival of a new baby into our little branch of the family. Coinciding with the end of Covid lockdowns and hurtling towards Bank Holiday season with an extra one thrown in for good measure, Spring 2022 should be near the top of the “If Carlsberg did fresh starts…” league of super Springs; however, world events appear to be very much in opposition to my usual upbeat positivity. “April is the cruellest month”, TS Eliot announced at the top of his poem “The Wasteland” which resonates more than ever amidst reports of horrific war atrocities, denials and claims of fake news, the rising threat of nuclear and chemical attack, the cost of living spiralling dizzyingly upwards, tax benefits for those imposing further hardships on the already poor, cold and hungry while benefiting from investments in companies that financially support the war, all accompanied by criminalisation of peaceful protest and refugees. Even the usually benign Will Smith lost his cool at The Oscars, slapping his way through the ceremony all pumped up on testosterone and fury. In the words of the Four Non Blondes and Marvin Gaye “What’s Going On?”. It’s nothing new I suppose, I’ve been re-reading Charles Dickens and Enid Blyton lately as well as a wonderful book loaned to me by my godmother set in World War Two. The world is both sick and cyclical, with the same terrible patterns lived and relived time after time. Why is that? I’m in regular contact with a young lad who I’ve known since he attended the same primary school as one of my daughters, he’s 19 years old and wants to work in TV, making his mark on the world through sharing human stories. He reminds me of myself at that age, fascinated with people and how we communicate. Like me he doesn’t want to leave his family and move to London for a career. He said to me last week “sometimes I think 2002-2014 were simpler times. Now everything seems so heavy - maybe it’s because I was young and unaware”. Bear in mind he was born at the same time as I had my first biological daughter in 2003 - post-911, just as the illegal war on Iraq was starting and “global terror” was the thematic lullaby that rocked us to sleep every night. My parents were born in 1944 in the midst of the horrors of the Second World War. I feel very fortunate to have grown up in 70s Britain. Maybe it’s because I was young and unaware but I guess that’s the beauty of being young and unaware. You can be protected to a degree from what’s happening in the wider world. There’ll always be someone wanting more power, over-compensating for lack of intelligence (emotional or otherwise), appendage or love, someone who will bully, argue, lie and threaten the safety of others or in some way just behave like a twat to shit-bomb the general balance of Mother Earth. We can’t let them win, can’t let them spoil our Springtime (why do I have Mel Brooks at this point in my head and his film The Producers!?).

What can we do in the face of people trying to taint the renewed hope of the season? Well, for me I intend to join any peaceful protest that presents itself in the country against any one of the many crappy things going on (I REALLY want someone who is a great organiser to organise something so please let me know!!) as well as VOTING and standing up wherever and whenever possible against bullies. I will continue to talk to my children, grandchildren (when they arrive), young friends and colleagues to try to make sense of things and know right from wrong. I’m not a preacher, I’m not huge on religion generally but I do like a good parable and a positive human tale. If a guy called Jesus did happen to get picked on because the people in charge didn’t like his messages about love, forgiveness, sharing, helping the poor and living a useful life then I’m going to side with the people sending out those same messages now. I’m going to buy the eggs (I’m a child of consumerism after all), enjoy the eggs and their symbolism, savour every moment of family time coming up and go see the baby lambs. Life and hope finds a way.

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