There's a parallel universe ... which side are you on?

Have you ever seen the TV series The Man in the High Castle? The premise is that the Germans and Japanese won WW2 and the world is now controlled by the Nazis and the Japanese empire, who also don't like each other very much. I loved it. Rufus Sewell is particularly gorgeous as an SS Obergruppenfuhrer.

(Am I allowed to say that? Does that diminish his acting prowess? I am objectifying him? Here's a photo, judge for yourselves).

Anyway, it was fabulous. Great plot, great acting until, all of sudden, it goes bonkers. The main characters start time travelling. I mean, as if there wasn't enough going on. Suddenly as well as an alternative future, you're having to deal with a parallel universe. Too hard, too bizarre, couldn't face it.

Which is a little bit how life feels today. As though I'm here living in one world, with my mates, my family, my work; trotting along, doing my best, keeping my distance, taking the tablets. Whilst somewhere, in a parallel universe, someone's living a better lifer. Having more fun. With different rules.

The Highlight of the Annual Sporting Calendar

For your average woman in the street? School Sports Day. The chance to watch little Oliver & Olivia strut their stuff in the sack race. Except this year, like last, it's far too dangerous.

Whereas, if you're a football fan, crack on. Take yourself off to the pub with your mates, get a ticket for a stadium - 60,000 to be had at Wembley by all accounts. (By the way, did you notice that the most common profile this week for people catching the virus was "men under the age of 44. Strange ...)

It's a Close (Contact) Call

No not that one, I'll come to that. Barry Gilmour. Or is it Billy. You know who I mean. This poor footballer, who was man of the match in Scotland's opening match (and therefore, presumably, got quite close to a lot of his teammates) tested positive for Covid.

Somehow the two English blokes he chatted to in the tunnel have to self isolate for 10 days, whilst the 25 other members of the Scotland squad - the ones he actually played football with - are deemed not to be at risk at all. If that had been Harry Kane you could just about understand it .... (Before anyone moans, I promise this is the last time I will ever mention football in this newsletter).

Apparently, this was all at the discretion and advice of Public Health England.

Back in the real world, one child in a class comes down with Covid, everyone is sent home. Simple rules, no discretion. Set by Public Health England I believe.

Understand Your Audience

Continuing with the theme, on what planet would you use an advert featuring eight men to persuade women that now is the time to have more children?

China, apparently. In an attempt to persuade women to get on board with the new three child policy. This was it (courtesy of the South China Morning Post). It didn't go down too well. No idea why.

Girls will (not) be Girls

Did you see the story about St Paul's Girls' School ditching the title "Head Girl" because it's "too binary". The role will be replaced by the title "Head of School" to make it "more inclusive."

I can't get myself too worked up about the use of the word "girl." Depends whose mouth it's coming out of and in what context. I could argue it either way.

"Inclusive" on the other hand, now that does get me worked up. It's like when organisations say "We value diversity and inclusion" and then you look at their Boards and leadership teams and they're 80% white male. Saying, or even writing something does NOT make it true.

St Paul's Girls' school, like many other private schools, is EXCLUSIVE. Here's an extract from the website: "St Paul's is an academically selective school and entry is by competitive examination and interview." The competitive examination and interview process is designed to exclude some students because they can only accommodate a certain number.

I have absolutely no problem with that and I'm sure they do a fantastic job of providing bursaries where they can and educating pupils about equality, tolerance and diversity, but you can't go waltzing around claiming one thing when the opposite is true. I see it all the time in professional firms when they claim to be inclusive but frown at anyone who hasn't got at least a 2:1 from Oxbridge.

A Very British Tech Entrepreneur

Did you see the story about John McAfee. He's a British born tech entrepreneur. One of the early ones. I remember when we first got computers at work (yes, I'm quite old) and McAfee was a name you saw every day. It flashed up on the screen saying something about antivirus protection. Never understood it.

Anyway, I can't say I'd given old John much thought. Never wondered what he was up to, having made squillions from his inventions. Turns out that whilst Elon Musk was building subs to rescue children from caves, Jeff Bezos was building a space ship and Bill Gates was ridding the world of Malaria, John was on quite a different path.

According to the press, he switched from tech to drugs, building quite a manufacturing capability in Belize, before then going on the run to Guatemala. Having been caught, returned and imprisoned in Belize he then managed to fake two heart attacks to secure his release. Which clearly positioned him well to run for US president as head of the "Libertarian Party."

Wow. You have to admire his energy.

Sadly, he is no more.

The Queen Knew What Was Coming

Here's someone else who is no more. You know who.

Watch carefully. Queenie says "I've just been with your health secretary, poor man, he's full of ..." and before she can continue with what she had planned to say ... "full of contrition for the lies he's told, the way he's brought his girlfriend onto the payroll and the pain he's about to cause to his family ..." Boris jumps in and says "Beans".

If only he'd let her finish, he'd have saved us all a lot of bother and speculation.

The people I feel really sorry for are those children. Six of them. Poor things.

Time for a Change

Regular readers will know that I do a bit of recruitment when I'm not prattling on here on this blog. I help women find jobs. I'll help men too but they don't often seem to need quite as much support.

You'd be amazed at how tricky it can be sometimes. I'll find myself a fabulous, well qualified lawyer, who's done all the right exams, got the right experience, who's ready to go back but if I so much as suggest to a firm that perhaps instead of focusing on, say, commercial law, she could perhaps go into employment, you'd think I was suggesting they take on a dentist.

Not feasible.

But in the parallel universe that is politics, it's perfectly possible for someone with practically no experience of healthcare to be a chancellor one day, a back bencher the next and suddenly secretary of state for health.

My friend Alex has a great theory. She reckons that we'd be better taking it in turns. You know, like in jury service. When your numbers called you have to join the cabinet and do your stint in whatever the next free role is. I think it's an idea that has legs. Sadly, Alex has given up on us all and become a fully fledged French citizen so I'm going to have to enlist others to help me make this particular change happen.

Anyone?

When I am an Old Woman

I shall wear purple. With a red hat which doesn't go and which doesn't suit me.

I LOVE that poem, which I shall recreate for you at the bottom of this post. It's my birthday today. I do not have a red hat but I DO have these utterly fabulous, totally impractical, ludicrously indulgent red shoes.

I was walking past a shop the other week and there they were, in the window. They don't go with anything I own. But I think that's the point.

I watched: The Full Monty. Seriously. The other night, I agreed to watch a film with the kids (19 and 17). They chose Fatherhood which is a new American comedy. Except it isn't funny at all. It's utter rubbish. We lasted 20 minutes at which point I decided they needed to go back to their roots and watch some proper Yorkshire comedy. They were extremely sceptical. It was as funny as ever.

I'm reading: Unsettled Ground by Clare Fuller. I have to say the Women's Prize list this year is proving exceptionally good (with one exception so far but perhaps it's just not my cup of tea so I won't name and shame).

I'm listening to: Edith! Rosamund Pike starts as Edith Wilson, First Lady to President Woodrow Wilson and, allegedly, the US's first Female President. So far so good.

PS. A bit of good news for Jess De Wahls. Not only did the RA apologise for banning the sale of her work from their shop, the whole furore inadvertently made her about a million times more famous than she was before. There is some justice in this parallel universe.

And finally ...

Warning, by Jenny Joseph

When I am an old woman I shall wear purple

With a red hat which doesn’t go, and doesn’t suit me.

And I shall spend my pension on brandy and summer gloves

And satin sandals, and say we’ve no money for butter.

I shall sit down on the pavement when I’m tired

And gobble up samples in shops and press alarm bells

And run my stick along the public railings

And make up for the sobriety of my youth.

I shall go out in my slippers in the rain

And pick flowers in other people’s gardens

And learn to spit.

You can wear terrible shirts and grow more fat

And eat three pounds of sausages at a go

Or only bread and pickle for a week

And hoard pens and pencils and beermats and things in boxes.

But now we must have clothes that keep us dry

And pay our rent and not swear in the street

And set a good example for the children.

We must have friends to dinner and read the papers.

But maybe I ought to practise a little now?

So people who know me are not too shocked and surprised

When suddenly I am old, and start to wear purple.