I Have Strong Opinions-I’m Only Human After All

A reader called Rachael, who sounds and almost certainly is a very nice person, said on one of my recent posts that my skill as a writer often turns a promising ‘homely’ tale into a racist diatribe.

I responded politely because I will always respond politely – and gave my point of view. I was extremely flattered that the words ‘skill as a writer’ came into it even if it was by way of saying I was racist and I still like Rachael regardless of what she thinks of me and I would always buy her a drink and a meal and take her home for – quit whilst your ahead eh Norman? 😉

What Rachael did, however, was make me think – which, I know, can often be a dangerous business in my case but think I did.

I went through the thoughts of ‘am I a bad person?’, ‘am I really a racist?’, ‘am I the devil incarnate?’, ‘should I start drinking vodka again?’ and so on and so forth. You will be relieved to learn, well, my wife was relieved to learn anyway, that I am not intending to change my status of the last two years from a ‘vodka free zone’. Even I can’t control me when vodka is involved.

I then thought some more. I opened a Bud and thought some more again.

I then arrived at my conclusion in much the same way, I suppose, as Archimedes arrived at his conclusions and, quite conceivably, the way in which Aristotle arrived at his not to mention Dante and Pythagoras and Shakespeare and Galileo and my pal Mick a couple of doors down.

Of course, my conclusions not to mention Mick a couple of doors down won’t have the same resonance on humanity and history as Archimedes conclusions have had but, to me, there is a resonance.

I am me.

I was born a version of me albeit tiny and only able to gurgle a bit – much like my vodka drinking former self actually – I then set about the task of growing. I became a child rather than a toddler, suffered some physical abuse, became a truculent teenager (suggesting I was still heading in the right direction) and, finally, emerged a man.

I got married and started a family, bought a house, worked for a living, went out with my pals, got drunk occasionally (oh, all right, regularly then if you must), survived many a scrape and, much to my own amazement – not to mention my Doctor’s – am still alive and, as far as I know, well, at the ripe old age of almost 57. (Still young these days I know but hitting 50 I considered something of an unexpected landmark none the less).

Over those almost 57 years I have formed opinions. Like all children I had no opinions – apart from a complete and utter and understandable loathing of Brussels Sprouts – but by my teens, like all teens, I suddenly woke to find I had developed a capability to critique. I had developed an ability to form my own views. Like most teens said views were generally stupid and utter rubbish but they were mine and I defended them – even when indefensible – with everything I had.

At nearly 57 years of age I feel like a teenager again.

I believe in love and caring and honesty and treating animals well and, as far as I know, surely all agree.

I believe in protecting the environment and looking after the elderly and ensuring children have a top class education. All agree? They must.

I believe in standing up for what is right and fighting against what is wrong. That’s the bit were, sometimes, I seem to part company with some.

I believe that England is my home – and clearly it is as I was born here. I believe that it is an absolute honour that so many people from across the globe want to come and live here because, clearly, it must be a wonderful place (at least in comparison to where they are from) or they wouldn’t want to come here.

What I also believe is this.

Those who wish to come and reside here are welcome when they want to work and contribute to the national good. They must understand and accept that this is England and a reasonable degree of respect must be shown to the indigenous people by ‘adapting’ to living here. Asking them to sacrifice their history and culture and beliefs is wrong but, asking them to ensure that their culture and / or beliefs are not intrusive on the indigenous people is right.

That is my belief.

If that belief is the belief of an aging person who is fast approaching becoming a dinosaur of the ‘modern age’ then so be it. It is my belief. I have not reached that view through influence by others, I have reached that view all by myself.

If that makes me racist then I’m sorry. I don’t want to be racist, nor do I feel racist but, if that view makes me so then there’s bugger all I can do about it because, frankly, I don’t want to.

I’m not perfect. I bow to those who are.

I’m only human.

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