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Yet once again, a minuscule percentage of our nation has selected a new prime minister for all of us. To my mind, this should lead us to memories of Harold Macmillan’s great remark: “Here we are, and the question is: where do we go from here?”
Illustration by R Fresson/ Via The Guardian
Today, the Pertinent Question Must Surely Be:
Have neoliberalism and pseudo-nationalism, implemented by the ‘Little Englanders’ swerved our country toward the edge of the precipice, the tragedy that has been unfolding since 4 May 1979 when Thatcher came to power?
Dear newly-selected Prime Minister Truss,
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UK Prime Minister Boris Johnson Resigns on 7 July 2022. Photo: Financial Times
Dear Boris,
September 5th is looming fast and time to say goodbye.
So, you are leaving us. Although, not surprised, nonetheless, I am saddened and disappointed.
I am sad that you failed so spectacularly. You lied through Brexit. You told us Brexit is done. You told us you were going to level up with us, milk and honey for everyone. At the time, I recall, you were predicting a ’ Golden Future’ for our country, a prediction that as we now know well was nothing but a mirage and loads of hot air.
I am sad that things could have been very different. People had given you a landslide victory, an 80 seat majority, to enable you to do good, but you blew it.
And now you are leaving us, you broken and us broken too.
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The 1st page of my passport and the date of arrival in England on 19 August 1972
Thank you England for 50 blissful years
I remember so clearly that very first moment when I landed at Heathrow on 19 August 1972:
The immigration officer who was so kind, acknowledging my extreme nervousness and anxiety, whilst trying to comfort me by joking about the boxes of pistachio nuts and nougats (Gaz) I was carrying on my person. ‘I recognise an Iranian from miles away, they all carry boxes of Pistachios and nougats’, he said or words to that effect.
Then, off I went on my first ever journey in England, boarding the train to Oxford, then catching the bus to Summertown, north of Oxford, searching for Five Mile Drive, and getting totally confused and lost.
I asked a man in the street for directions. Looking at me so tired and confused, he dropped everything and drove me all the way to Mrs. Brown’s house, where I was going to have my lodgings.
From those very early days and years I began to see things that were in total contrast to the stereotypical images of British people and Britain I had been led to believe:
- Journey to Healing: Let Me Know What is Essential
- GCGI Our Journey of Hope is 20 Years Old
- Mum and Dad’s Poetic Words of Love on the First Day of School
- World in Chaos and Despair: The Healing Power of Travel and Wanderlust
- A prophetic memo to President Carter in 1977 that could have changed the course of history