A short ride – again largely determined by which roads are flooded and which are going to be deep in debris; the normal legacy of flooding. At least it was on the road and on a road bike this time.
The rain’s ceased and it’s unseasonally mild. There were squirrels out foraging, hedgerow birds aplenty and two sightings of birds of prey – a Sparrow Hawk and, probably, a Kestrel.
And there was an endless amount of litter on the verges. This country is filthy. From the casually discarded stuff – mainly drink and food related – to the obviously deliberately tipped – typically ‘small builder detritus’ – I have nothing new to say about it. It’s depressing to see and depressing to think you’re sharing the world with so many grotty people.
I’ve seen any number of pundits over the past few days looking back at 2012 and going on about how great Britain still can be, referring to the Olympics in particular, but in truth that was just a red-herring. It was a freak-show diversion.
Any ‘feel good’ talk is wholly and utterly inappropriate when we’re living in a society where, at the most simple, basic level, so many of its citizens feel so disinterested and disengaged they’re willing to foul it up. Leave everything else aside. It is uncomplicated in the extreme: if you’re shitting in your own nest then there has to be something very, very wrong.
Coincidentally, this time last year I was writing about the possible merits of being angry. It’s a new year again. Perhaps anger is sensible; perhaps it is time to try and take a different, more active attitude.