This Sceptred isle

Union Jackass

Sony A7R3 : f/6.3@160th : ISO 320 : EV -0.3 : FE 24-105mm f/4 (38mm)

“This royal throne of kings, this sceptred isle,
This earth of majesty, this seat of Mars,
This other Eden, demi-paradise,
This fortress built by Nature for herself
Against infection and the hand of war,
This happy breed of men, this little world,
This precious stone set in the silver sea,
Which serves it in the office of a wall,
Or as a moat defensive to a house,
Against the envy of less happier lands,
This blessed plot, this earth, this realm, this England,…


…Dear for her reputation through the world,
Is now leased out, I die pronouncing it,
Like to a tenement or pelting farm:
England, bound in with the triumphant sea
Whose rocky shore beats back the envious siege
Of watery Neptune, is now bound in with shame,
With inky blots and rotten parchment bonds:
That England, that was wont to conquer others,
Hath made a shameful conquest of itself.
Ah, would the scandal vanish with my life,
How happy then were my ensuing death!…”

William Shakespeare, Richard II

An abridged part of the speech by John of Gaunt from Shakespeare’s Richard II that kind of captures the mood this image generates in me, though some of the words may not be so relevant when taken out of their historical context. I suppose I’m still pissed off about Brexit, especially since I’m now going to be spending a lot more time here in London, ONE OF THE MOST COSMOPOLITAN CITIES IN THE WORLD. And a round table is all well and good for discussions but not much use if you’re the only ones sitting round it, fish or no fish!

I took this photo at a restaurant just round the corner from Portobello market, so I guess it still counts as part of the Portobello series I seem to be generating… I’ve just taken a slight detour rant. I’ve also added this image to the photo essay I published a while back titled ‘The Reduction of Europa’, which has a whole series of images expressing my Brexit pain. Be sure to read the title for each image, for that added bit of spice.

And for those that don’t know me particularly well, here’s a tiny bit of background that may explain my own personal opinions about the narrow-mindedness of nationalism. I was born in Argentina to one Irish and one British parent (division right there on so many levels!); I was schooled in England, moved to London in my late teens, married a Finnish lady, and raised two children in Helsinki. I am now back in our London flat, both for work and to spend more time with my elderly mother, who lives alone. I’m lucky enough to be able to make that choice. My kids are lucky because they are eligible for Irish passports, so they can enter the country and live here if they so desire. My wife, not so lucky. And, anyway, they’re quite happy living in Finland, a country with a social charter that actually cares for its people, rather than lining the pockets of their cronies as the most vulnerable suffer (I still can’t forgive the care home debacle). I’m not saying that Finland is perfect, even though it is often rated as one of the happiest countries, whatever that means. It looked after me and the family during the pandemic when work went belly up, for which I will always be grateful. Food on the table and our health. All the rest is icing on the already tasty cake.

And life moves on. So shall I. Nice photo, right. I was going to title it ‘This septic isle’, which would have allowed me to play around with the current theme of the state of Britain’s waters and the raw sewage being pumped into them by the water companies, but I reined myself in. Have I mentioned how I’ve done a lot of kayaking on some of Finland’s largest lakes, drinking the water from out my hand before continuing to paddle on my merry way? And, just so it’s said, I’m loving being back in London. A great city! Pity about the chancers running the country. Anyone know why the French take to the streets in such numbers when they want to protest. All I do is complain. And then leave to my favourite local Irish pub Angie’s, to watch the night’s Champions League footie and have a proper Guinness. I didn’t say I wasn’t easy to please. Might find some Dutch courage after a pint or two but I reckon I’ll just pop into my Lebanese corner store on the way home for some meze delights. The joys of a cosmopolitan multi-cultural metropolis.

Portobello Market
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