I think those that think that OCD is all about cleaning should read on. Along with the increase in tics brought on by this cold snap my mind has been working overtime worrying about what the future brings. Rather than worrying about my own personal fortunes wondering if I’ll ever achieve the job, perfect lover, 2.5 children etc my worries are more on a macro level and concern my community and society as a whole.
On a community level beneath our homes and gardens, a fire has been raging underground for over a month in Daw Mill Colliery, which is nearby. guardian.co.uk/business/201...
I’m probably being over dramatic in thinking that this fire will effect the soil conditions under North Warwickshire resulting in the opening of a giant fiery chasm under my home, but that’s the way Tourette’s is, I worry about these things. Add to this titbits of information from the now closed local pub (another local community problem) such as the workings from Daw Mill join up with those of the now closed Coventry Colliery which was situated in Keresley End, when you come in from the Coventry side you can see the old pit wheel at the old entrance to the colliery (opposite an empty spot where the recently bulldozed Colliery Club was) which is now an industrial estate. I never said I lived in a traditional chocolate box village now did I? Back to the pub-pit-facts such as “there were never any rats down there (down mine) until Keresley joined up with Daw Mill”, “the seam (coal seam) runs down nearly as far as Oxford” “There’s still loads of coal down there”. I feel quite selfish in a way worrying about a fire a long way underground which could geographically be anywhere between here, Nuneaton or Oxford (That’s still quite mind boggling that you walk a couple of streets to work, go underground and end up working somewhere under Banbury!) and eventually go out and cause any harm above ground but around these parts 650 men have lost their jobs, some living around Keresley End.
My ticcy brain turns to other mining events, this one involved a relative, my Dadcu (grandfather) well he was involved in lots of mining accidents as was a member of the mines rescue team so in the course of his working life must have seen some horrific incidents including being one of the many that helped dig out the people who were killed in Aberfan, most of which were primary school children, a couple of my aunties and uncle were around the same age.
You may think that this is enough for one person to worry about but there’s more. I’m feeling quite deflated by these concerns despite doing my best to try and halt these changes as have many others. The government have ploughed on regardless of how detrimental these polices will be to individuals and society as a whole. These awful polices will be put into motion in a matter of days, some have likened them to “ethnic cleansing”. Only this morning I received a council tax bill, as well as cuts to housing benefit meaning that you would need to top up your rent with money from other benefits I now have to pay council tax. I’m getting off lightly here, those people in receipt of HB who live in social housing (there’s a 6 year wait for me) who are deemed to have a spare bedroom, or in fact a dinning room that could be used as a bedroom will have an amount deducted from their HB (dubbed the bedroom tax) despite many charities voicing their concerns and the fact that this policy could cost local councils more than what it would save the Tories push on.
As well as the “bedroom tax” April sees the roll out of Universal Credit, Personal Independent Payment and a whole raft of NHS reforms. As an idealistic Socialist it’s not looking good, in my mind the future looks like some kind of Orwellian dystopia. After watching “Made in Dagenham” on Saturday guardian.co.uk/film/2010/se... I was feeling hopeful but I feel now that the progress that the women at the Ford factory and the hard work that many a campaigner has done has amounted to nothing. It’s a s*** state of affairs and there’s something bad afoot. I know Peter Gabriel wrote this back in 1973, strikes, blackouts and austerity a bit like now, but listen to the lyrics, mad as a box of frogs (some have described me as that) but a parallel could be drawn along with the “bedroom tax”.