Last night's leader's debate - aired on the dastardly Sky News channel - yielded no clear winner. Indeed, the earlier Cleggmania has faded somewhat, as the new dog with the new tricks became old hat. He used names looked into the camera, and basically made the same claims about being different. Ho hum. But Clegg did have clear and different policies on Europe, Trident, and immigration - all left-field and quite brave. Brown was better than I have ever seen him: angry, principled, and informative; he seemed to have a fire in his belly at last. He claimed Nick was anti-American and bad for security, and David anti-Europe and bad for the economy. Cameron - to my mind - was the weakest - though his calm upper-crust "Gap Yah" delivery was at least less shaky than first time out, and he seemed to score points about the campaign literature scare tactics that Brown may or may not have authorised. Eyewear is now on the fence, between Labour and the Lib Dems. I wait to see the last debate next week.
A poem for my mother, July 15 When she was dying And I was in a different country I dreamt I was there with her Flying over the ocean very quickly, And arriving in the room like a dream And I was a dream, but the meaning was more Than a dream has – it was a moving over time And land, over water, to get love across Fast enough, to be there, before she died, To lean over the small, huddled figure, In the dark, and without bothering her Even with apologies, and be a kiss in the air, A dream of a kiss, or even less, the thought of one, And when I woke, none of this had happened, She was still far distant, and we had not spoken.
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