I thought it might rain, but then, when I saw Magwitch by the roadside, small dog on a lead, I found myself full of optimism. "Lovely day!", he exclaimed and I had to agree. A chat had been on the cards for some weeks. We'd spotted one another before and simply acknowledged our co-existence with a nod and then carried on with our respective lives. Today was different, the circumstances changed, we were both easy like Sunday morning and it seemed like the right thing to do. I never stopped pedalling and as I headed for the hill I saw a dishevelled, harassed, pre-occupied, edgy Barbara Hershey – or somebody who looked a little like her – standing on the path admiring a horse across the street. She mumbled something, it sounded like "I've never seen such a tidy horse" and I had to agree, again without stopping, although I probably managed a smile. Perhaps she meant a tiny horse, a pygmy pony. I looked in the direction of the horse, who stared out from a solitary field in front of the football pitches as I passed.
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| Freedom is a summer field... |
In my head Dreaming from the Waist by the Who blasted out, I love that opening guitar that sounds like a flock of seagulls and the crashing, euphoric triumphalism of Keith Moon's manic drumming and then as Daltry's powerful voice kicks in – "I've got that wide awake, give-and-take, five o'clock-in-the-morning feeling" – I pushed on towards the 269 looking forward to the rest of the ride and the cinnamon brioche bun that awaited me at the Costa Coffee in Westerham. All was right with the world, I was on my fourth consecutive ride of the week and looking forward to chewing the fat with Andy about whatever we decide to discuss.
Lord Chatham would have to wait, I thought, as I remembered an over-ambitious plan to ride early to Knockholt Pound this morning. I just wasn't sure I'd get back to Westerham by 9 o'clock, but I think I would have. There's always next week. Or let's hope so.
I felt so glad - relieved - that I live in comfort in my 'safe European home' and not somewhere hostile like Kabul where I'd have to deal with the bearded, turbaned, extremist Taliban who think they can run other people's lives for them, make them adhere to a strict version of the teachings of the Koran. The worst thing about religion is that none of it is true, people don't come back from the dead, you can't feed hundreds of people with a loaf of bread and a sardine, when people die there are no virgins waiting for them; why would everybody be so scared of dying if that was the case? Why have a death penalty if it's really nothing more than a Brucie Bonus?
I find myself extremely angry with the West's withdrawal from Afghanistan and, of course, it has its roots in something Trump arranged while in power last year; he, the biggest cock in the world, naturally, sowed the seeds of disaster, but I didn't expect Biden to carry it through and leave innocent Afghans at the mercy of a bunch of extremists.
Why can't women be educated? Why do they have to cover up? Why is it that if they (or anybody else for that matter) don't agree with the Taliban they risk death? Everybody should be free to live their lives, think freely, do what they want, when they want, and not be cowering under the cosh of the fucking Taliban. And what about those soldiers we've all seen without arms and legs, 'life-changing injuries' caused by roadside bombs laid by the Taliban? It seems as if it was all for nothing. In another reality those soldiers could have been walking around without the aid of prosthetic limbs. And now we all face an uncertain future as the Taliban are sure to allow extremist groups like Isis and Al Qaeda into the country (I'm sure they're already there) to work on their evil plans for another 9/11, another bombing on the London Underground, perhaps.
The worst thing is that it didn't need to happen, but it did and here we are, powerless, hearing stories of horror from those trying desperately to reach Kabul airport and find a flight out of hell. I think how easy it is for me to reach Heathrow and fly out of the country, I think of me now, at this very moment, listening to Nantucket Sleighride by Mountain, having just started to prepare dinner. I'm not expecting a biblical-looking gentleman, dressed in rags and carrying an AK47, to knock on my door and take me away because I've expressed a few anti-Taliban thoughts. I can call Boris Johnson an idiot (and worse) safe in the knowledge that the secret police won't be round to see me. I rode my bike 22 miles this morning without encountering any problems, no road blocks, snipers, mines, nothing. I am a free man and I don't see why others can't be free too. Why can't people live in peace? Surely we can all get on if only we stop forcing people to think in a certain way or act against their will. I don't trust the Taliban, they're saying they have changed, but I don't believe a word of it, and nor does anybody else, but time will tell. If they have changed there's no reason why some kind of deal isn't struck, but I can't say I'm optimistic.
Politicians at this present time are seriously lacking, especially in the UK. Just look at the British Government. Look at that idiot Boris Johnson, whose appearance alone let's the cat out of the bag. Dominic Raab, Michael Gove, Matt Hancock, Priti Patel, people we voted for; and look at Brexit. I love the fact that food prices are going to go up because we simply don't have the staff, all those foreign workers who willingly picked our crops from the fields have gone home and the lazy, good-for-nothing Brits think that kind of manual labour is below them. I understand we're now considering letting prisoners do the work instead, it's all very desperate, a bit like a chain gang in America in the 50s and 60s. What a fucking poppy show!
