Saturday, 26 May 2012
It appears the Scottish National Party have launched their 'Yes' campaign before we know what the question is going to be on Scottish independence. The Scottish and Westminster parliaments are yet to even agree on which consultation (there are to be two) is going to be valid.
We should just change the question to: 'Do you want Scotland to remain part of the Union?' to stuff their campaign.
Scotland will be a new country and if it wants to remain part of the EU, means they have to adopt the Euro. That's going well at the moment.
If they don't want to remain part of the EU, they can launch their own central bank and currency, which is fine. But I'm not sure how much haggis and whiskey they could export to keep their currency value stable.
Also, what would happen to all the Scots in England, Wales and Northern Ireland who don't want to go independent? Would they be forced back north of the border? Would they have to have a Scottish passport? If Scotland were to apply to EU, they wouldn't be able to levy additional domestic taxes on these 'Scots'.
Part of me wants them to try and fail miserably, because I think the minds behind it are all excellent campaigners but poor policy makers subsidized by the rest of the Union.
Tuesday, 15 May 2012
I've not blogged consistently for a while. I kind of crashed out of love with it and started watching Jersey Shore with no trousers on instead. I think after a few months of neglect with only a few uploaded photos it might be worth giving some love and attention to these pages. After all, my only contributions have been pictures of holidays, which don't feel like they earn interested readers. So...I've put on about a stone in the last few months. This is down to drink. I'm a borderline alcoholic now, and even have a red nose as a souvenir. Some would think this a medallion of debauchery, but sadly I can only pinpoint a few drinking sessions that are noteworthy. This just tells me I'm getting old. I've always been slightly mature for my years, but sadly flesh seems to have caught up with spirit. The ability to brave a hangover has gone. Stress has said an unwelcome hello to my 20s and planted several grey hairs in my beard (I have a beard). Predictably I make a lot of noise when moving anywhere. I'm increasingly getting into red wine. What I'm most alert to is the cliff edge into a 30-something lifestyle. Some of this is undoubtedly appealing, but it's the velocity I'm most concerned about. There seems to be a whole new step up in life, which requires its own manual to guide you through things like mortgages, Benecol and appropriate shoe care. This last one is important, as being in your late twenties teaches you that suede shoes can look good and trousers are a weekend option. This is no doubt in readiness for a decade of John Lewis. Something very alarming is the decoupling of your (as a man) attractiveness compared to your girlfriend. As life takes its toll, you realise that you're totally exposed to age, while she seems to cushion it with enviable grace. You merely cling to the hope that you still look good in a suit, although as photos doubtless attest, the sweaty reality of a wedding dance floor is particularly unforgiving. As I'm repeatedly told, I'm not allowed to lose my hair, which makes every trip to the barbers a traumatic experience and less economical each time. A lot has happened, but obviously some of this has crept up on me. Hopefully I can find the time to provide a full account of it here as things progress.