Madge Mahoney's Morning Musings

It had been a lovely weekend at home, hanging out with her beloved and their lovely friend who had come to stay for a couple of days. The three women got on extraordinarily well and they had found it easy to relax, eat, chat, unwind and catch up with lives that were always busy. It had felt like a mini summer holiday with a trip to the theatre, meals out in the sunshine and a general feeling of friendship and freedom. Just lovely.

The play was in the West End and Madge had been happy to sit in the back of her new car and be driven about on a Saturday night. It was another of the wonderful things about her beloved. She was great with maps, directions, driving and keeping her cool. She organised trips, sorted out parking and held Madge’s hand as they made their way through the crowds. It was good to be able to relax and not do it all oneself and Madge was always grateful for the gentle woman at her side.

The play was the second part of a trilogy called The Death of England. A monologue. The first had been a white working class man talking about his life and the death of his father and the England he had known. The second was the perspective of his best friend, a black man growing up alongside him in that same England. Both pieces were powerful and packed in a great deal that was still taking time to digest. Racism of course was key.

In light of the very modern racist riots that had been taking place over the weekend, Madge was sitting with the discomfort of the conned, diseased mindset of the modern world. When they had seen the first part of the trilogy a few years back, the world of violent racism had seemed a thing of the past, even though life did seem to be more aggressive. Now, post covid and all the political chicanery, it had become very very real. It was hideous on every level and Madge had been so appalled by the setting fire of a hotel, as she assumed most people would be, that she was almost despairing. Almost.

For Madge, it was the idea that a person could get up in the morning and think to themselves, “I know, I’m going to go out and do some good hating today. I’m going to take my child perhaps and show him how to throw things at people who look different.” It was mindblowing to Madge. There were things that people got caught up in and there were deliberate intentions to hate and harm. The Reformation of the nation didn’t look good.

What bothered Madge, amongst the many bothering about the whole situation was what the long term impact would be on lives and on community relationships. Teenage boys getting caught up in the excitement of a riot were easily directed to mayhem in Madge’s experience. They have no concept of consequence at that age and she thought about the lad she had seen in the papers who had looted a Greggs and was pictured carrying a way a tray of sausage rolls. He could well end up in prison for years because of that and it struck Madge as being such an appalling waste. So many lives would be ruined because they decided to riot and this was what felt really quite sinister.

The media and the language of the past decade had done so much to create such divisions. Giving a platform to a millionaire ‘man of the people’ to spout his rhetoric and sow seeds of derision and division had led the nation to even greater confusion. Who really represented the poor and the vulnerable in a Neo liberal world where all that mattered was profit? no one seemed to know and that was perhaps the danger. Handing over personal agency to corporations for consumption. It was a lot. They had taken a lot.

It had also been a lot to consider the complexities of the recent boxing match and subsequent controversy. Madge had, like so many, been very sure of her opinions the moment she had seen the headlines. It had been a salutary lesson in assumptions and integrity. It was no less complex because although the winner had certainly been shown to have been born and lived as a woman, there was nonetheless the physical advantage of having higher levels of certain hormones. Jeez, thought Madge. It’s a good thing to remain open to the wider picture. It doesn’t make it less complex though.

It was now Monday morning and Madge hadn’t yet seen whether there had been more riots or whether anyone had worked out an agreed definition of what a woman is. Would anyone ever agree she wondered? With a shrug of resignation, acknowledging that these were issues beyond her comprehension, Madge considered the day ahead. More tea, a couple of calls, a lift to the station and an afternoon to decide who to visit. It was as good a plan as any for easing into the week and with an eye on the kettle, Madge sent out cosmic hugs and hahalala wishes. It was grim times but cool heads and open hearts would see us through she thought. Big love. xx