Five Word Meme

Jim has given me five words that remind him of me. The point of this meme is to take the five words and “waffle” about what they mean to me. Jim gave me Community, Green, Blogging, Ale and Humour.

Community

To me community is all about communication. A community is a group of people who communicate with each other. It doesn’t have to be in one physical location, although that is how it developed. Whilst there are millions of bloggers there are a few other bloggers with whom I consider myself to be one of the gang, a community. Those are the ones I talk to, and who talk to me. Same with work. The one’s you go to the pub with. Then there’s football, yer mates you go to the match with and talk bollocks with in the pub afterwards.

But let’s get back to what most people think of as community, their physical locality or neighbourhood. It is strange that people whose next door neighbour is 200 miles down the road are much more open and friendly than those living in a row of Terraces. If you are out walking in the countryside it is common to say hello to strangers you meet. But not in the High Street. Why is that? Towns and villages where the population are/were dependent upon the local Mill or Pit for employment were quite strong communities. Even in the early days of big Cities there were local communities. But it’s changed and what has changed it is the motor car. You go out of your front door, get in your car and drive to where you want to be. Nobody walks anymore. So you don’t meet your neighbours. To a limited extent this is overcome by mums at the school gate and the children making friends at school.

But when we are focussed on paying off the mortgage and bringing up the kids, and spend hours per day commuting [another community word] whilst ignoring everyone, there is little time or energy left to explore the wonders of community. Until you retire. Then you become part of the retired mate’s favours community. The plumber, the electrician, the decorator, the carpenter, the tailor, the seamstress, the cook…..

Green

Is a choice. Do you want to be the type of parasite that kills its host and therefore yourself, or the type that lives in harmony with its host – symbiosis? This planet has, from time to time, had a good old scratch and got rid of the irritating itch it was getting from its “inhabitants”. We call these scratches “major extinction events”. Frankly we’ve been taking the piss lately and we need to wise up pronto. All the waffle about green left, eco-socialism and the like is just distraction bollocks. Green is survival – period.
It is also the colour of a football pitch.

Blogging

Is the equivalent of shouting at the television or radio. Except, if you are lucky a few people get to know what you are shouting about and why. It is also a method of instilling some discipline. You have to think carefully about what you write, because others are going to criticise. Frustrating when you can’t just get the words right, or you start arguing with yourself, and the word file remains unposted. I’ve got loads of those. It’s also about engagement with a community and can be very, very rewarding when you meet someone you don’t know and they mention that they read it, without knowing it’s you.

Ale

Yummy! I drink beer, me. Lots of it. But not just any old beer. It’s good old fashioned British Bitter for me. None of that foreign rubbish Lager stuff. And the nearer the brewery is to where I live the better. London Pride, Shepherd Neame, Greene King Abbotts, Marstons Pedigree, Ruddles County, Old Speckled Hen…… but I have been known to occasionally take a pint of Newcastle Brown Ale or Guinness when I’m hungry. It’s my contribution to the local economy and the local council’s recycling targets. And I haven’t bothered with one of those fancy can crushers. I’ve got a block of 3x2 and a 10lb Punner in the garage. That’s really fun on the day before kerbside collection. It’s also exercise. It’s important to get exercise when you drink as much as I do. Walking seems to do it quite nicely, because you can plan your walks around pub locations. Of course it will probably kill me in the end, but I’ve instructed my children to stand well clear if they decide to have me cremated.

Humour

There are those times when someone doesn’t get the joke. That’s OK, we all do it. What really gets on my tits are those people who have had a humour by-pass operation or are genetically programmed not to laugh – like the Germans. Believe me it’s true. I’ve got a German Aunt and I know her family. They were over here for the World Cup in ’66 and boy they didn’t get the joke big time. Humour is a safety valve. It is an essential element of psychological, emotional and physical well being. Those people who take themselves way too seriously are in serious danger of their heads exploding and we don’t want that do we, it’s messy for the rest of us. Oh, and those people who don’t like humour about “minorities”, you know the Politically Correct brigade who get squeaky bums within 100 yards of an Irish Joke; and for the benefit of Derek I don’t mean the Irish Green Party, so I don’t.

Laugh Long and Prosper in a Green Community Pub with WiFi access.