Sunday, 28 February 2021

A Quest For The Best

A social media posting by an unknown American has been viewed more than 100,000 times. That sounds like a pretty respectable number. What makes it more amazing, however, is that it’s a tribute to the UK.

Imgur user Chimichanga007 - no, I wasn't sure what Imgur was either - says s/he lived in the UK for a couple of years and now has “survivor’s guilt after experiencing living in a sane country compared to America”. The poster says the difference between the US - where s/he has travelled widely - is “night and day”. 

Continuing in the spirit of my last blog in which I looked for the positives in our present situation, I thought it might be an idea to look outward again to find what I have to look forward to while in isolation and with a never-ending number of weeks still to go. There’s a saying that it’s always darkest before the dawn and I, at any rate, am not enjoying the darkness. I am impatient for release.


So, while we’re stuck in this limbo land, I’ve begun to wonder what we do have going for us now in Britain? Yesterday's day of sunshine was one to grab and cling to as a memory. Go outside every time you catch a glimpse, you never know when it’s going to return. It’s a real mood lifter at any time but especially now.


Spring is springing. I’ve spotted daffodils, tree blossom and the powerful yellow of my neighbour’s mimosa tree. It’s hanging dangerously over the weighed-down fence but there we go. It’s a privilege that will be worth paying for.


Other countries may have warmer and more consistent weather but our seasons certainly give us something to talk about. I wonder where else in the world people talk endlessly about the changeable weather and/or joyfully drop everything to go outside and just feel a bit of that warmth on our bones. Maybe some might say we - I - am easily pleased. That’s probably true and that may be while I can still find things to laugh at when I don’t feel much is a laughing matter right now.


And so we come on to the British sense of humour. That’s a tricky one to define, particularly if you watch the various and varied TV programmes and wonder what happened to our “world class” entertainment industry. Maybe it’s still in lockdown. 


But on a personal level, many of us still have a wry and self-deprecating way of looking at life. It is seen as distinctly British and a characteristic that entertains and amuses those outside the country. Shows such as Fawlty Towers and Monty Python come to mind. I remember someone from overseas telling me they’d come to Britain purely on the basis of seeing Monty Python. I hope the reality wasn't too disappointing.


For the most part, we remain a tolerant and kind society. Some of our European neighbours have been showing their displeasure at their lockdown with increasing protests and resistance. We seem to have stayed put. Some have argued we are being too easily led in our acceptance of our leaders’ decrees; others would say we have to obey for the common good. Whichever side we take, most of us are abiding by the law very possibly with an emotional and financial cost to ourselves. I sense a spirit of generosity in this that’s a real positive.


Our blogger from across the pond tells how s/he became emotional when going to ER (A&E to us) because the free NHS treatment wouldn’t lead to debt. The blogger also says how the British don’t like excess emotions because it makes them embarrassed. That strikes a chord. Perhaps it’s the “stiff upper lip” encouragement of the past (fortunately, trembling a little more nowadays) but, on the positive side, it’s also a way of remaining modest or not blowing our own trumpet. A characteristic of reserve. I like that. Praise is great but it's better when it comes from someone else. It's not the same when you're having to build yourself up to try and persuade someone that you're the best. Particularly when it doesn't come naturally.



What really touched me about the social media post was it seemed to be so different from how I’m being led to believe Britain is. Social media - the angry, aggressive type - tells me we live in an unjust, unfair world and we’re completely wrong most, if not all, of the time. 


Life is certainly not fair and the world should be a much more equal place. But all these social media posters seem to be in such a perpetual rage. It must be exhausting and it is most definitely not good for their mental health.


Just as I’m about to despair, along comes someone completely unknown who says generous and complimentary words about the country in which I live. How ironic that it takes someone from outside this small island to tell me how lucky I am to be here, even now when I’m confined to my home. 


Chimichanga007 ends the post, saying: “I miss you UK and I am coming back when this is all over! I know EU gives you sh** but you're my happy place and have a lot of compassion in your society!”


Fancy a person considering the UK as their “happy place”. It's hard to say better than that.



By Lulu Sinclair



Photo 1: Alistair MacRobert/Unsplash

Photo 2: Fas Khan/Unsplash 

Photo 3:  Ian Taylor/Unsplash



 

Wednesday, 10 February 2021

In Celebration of Love



February, a month that is still dark and drizzly and, to me at any rate, representative of a bleak time of year. The exception is St Valentine’s Day. 

I looked up its origins and they, too, seem to be a bit dark, with the theme running through all the legends of a Christian priest - Valentine - martyred after being put to death by the Romans for the illegal practice of marrying Christian couples. 


Let’s put that to one side for the moment; I’m looking for a story that cheers and inspires so let’s move on to how we think of the mid-month party event. Balloons, red-shaped hearts, dinner dates, marriage proposals, exciting cards with no signature from admirers we can only guess at. And, as the years go by and we may have settled for the one particular admirer, the lucky ones among us can still look forward to that card which reminds us of our youth and excitement and the dreams we had.


This year will be trickier, of course. Coronavirus was still creeping up on us last year but lockdown had not yet arrived. We could celebrate and go out and the young men and women’s fancies were turning towards spring with the delicious thoughts that season brings.


Those thoughts seem to have been flattened this year. There’s hope on the horizon but, for anyone searching for someone special, it’s hard to know how to look. No online dating; no pubs; no parties; no friendly introductions - it looks like this year’s Valentine’s Day might be a bit of a subdued affair.


For the purpose of this piece, how about we look at a different kind of love? Not the Eros type - the romantic or passionate love that will return soon enough - but the agape kind, the ancient Greek’s descriptive term for a generous or charitable love, one that encompasses all. 


Unsurprisingly, there has been a lot of complaining about how restrictive our lives have become. We’re used to at least some freedom of movement and there’s not too much of that going on right now. None of us are quite sure who to blame but we live in a society where blame matters and we’re sure we can hold someone to account.


It’s been easy to continue in our polarised discussion - government, or not, NHS or not, obedience, or not - and so it goes on. It’s not surprising, really, we have little else to do except naval gaze and throw out accusations. 


It’s been a long, hard haul but at last it is looking as though we are moving in the right direction. The UK’s vaccination programme seems to be moving through the population very quickly and, to the surprise of many of us, it really has been something by which we can be impressed.


And here we come to the agape love part. I have come across a number of people who volunteered to become vaccinators to help keep the programme going and they all report how moved they’ve been and how “teary” they became when they took part in the process for the very first time. Okay, one or two might have signed up because they wanted an early chance of the jab but most simply wanted to help and they wanted to be in at the start of something which has the potential to change/re-normalise all our lives. 


Inadvertently, what seems to have happened is that those who took part have also experienced the benefits of agape love. Their charitable deeds have left them with that wonderful feeling of having done something worthwhile while basking in the glow of admiration from friends and family for doing something for others. Internal and external praise you might say.


I was on the receiving end of such treatment recently when I went to have my own test for Covid-19. I booked online - it was simple - and was given a date for the test two days later. I drove to it and was directed to a (free!) parking bay by the first of a number of charming and efficient people. Each was at least as kind, considerate and helpful as the last and the whole process took less than 20 minutes. I had my result within the hour. 


In my own slight uncertainty and anxiety, I was on high alert for officialdom, bureaucracy, anything that could leave me feeling just that little bit more edgy and ready to rail. What I found, however, was an experience as good as it could be. The staff wore the same head-to-toe covering but, other than that they were as individual and diverse as could be found in this rich tapestry that is London. And what they did have in common, was a desire to put those of us coming for the test at ease. It worked like a dream. I left feeling a whole lot better than when I’d started out, with my young and enthusiastic supporters waving me off as I went. The experience lifted my spirits for the rest of the day and I’m smiling as I remember it. That is a personal glimpse of what agape love can do for each one of us.


So, in a month when we lost the inspiring Captain Sir Tom Moore and (my own personal idol) Christopher Plummer, aka Captain Von Trapp, the father-figure hero of my childhood, I’m going to take a moment to remember those who are no longer here. I feel sad but I take comfort in reflecting on the power of the unconditional love that is agape and how this testing and trying time is finally bringing out the good in us. I feel surprised, encouraged and strangely hopeful. Perhaps Eros can wait his turn for another year. 

 

By Lulu Sinclair


Photo 1:  Clem Onojeghuo on Unsplash

Photo 2:  Priscilla Du Preez on Unsplash

Captain Sir Tom Moore portrait by kind permission of Alexander Chamberlin


Tuesday, 26 January 2021

Reasons To Be Cheerful


The vaccination is being rolled out, Spring is (almost) within sight and yet I am finding many people feeling much gloomier than they were during the first lockdown.

It was summer then, of course, and it was a good opportunity to enjoy spending time away from the office and outdoors. Many of us were still earning so that was an added bonus. It was all going to be a short, sharp shock and then back to our normal lives. 


It’s not turned out quite like that, has it? It has gone on and on with not too much insight into when and what the end of this pandemic will look like. Maybe that accounts for a certain amount of gloom. That and the uncertainty of when life really will get back to normal. 


We all know that excess stress is not good for us and we are presently living in stressful times. We know, and we continue to stress - it’s one thing to be told to stay calm, it’s another thing to actively try and do it. 


However, a recent report from scientists at Ohio University says we really do need to take care of ourselves at this particular time. The study suggests those who are not managing very well at the moment, may not get the full benefit of a vaccination against coronavirus. The scientists studied results from vaccinations over the past 30 years and found stress, depression and an unhealthy way of living may adversely affect the body’s immune response to vaccination.


Put simply, those not in a good-enough frame of mind were less likely to find the vaccine fully effective than those other people who felt better, both mentally and physically.

I feel even more glum when I read the research so I suppose that’s not helpful. I know I need to keep my spirits up in case I’m suddenly called for a vaccination. I need to be in prime condition for when that moment comes. 


It’s hard, when you’re in a gloomy state of mind, to come up with reasons to be cheerful so I’ve been reflecting quite a lot on what I can do to change my state of mind.


I've decided, because of our very real actual limitations, that I’m going to try and seek more positives from how I’m living my day-to-day life. I'm suggesting to clients who are presently finding this lockdown so hard they might consider doing something similar.


For instance, this season is one that most of us rush through on the way to Spring. I hardly give it a glance. Bare trees, grey streets (if you live in the city), damp and a feeling of unremitting drudgery as I put the cheerful lights of Christmas behind me. That’s how it usually feels to me at any rate and this year it seems a highly exaggerated version of that.


So, this time, I’m taking the time to notice what’s going on around me. I’m noticing which trees are bare and which still have leaves. I’m trying to identify what they are and why it happens. I’m quite unquestioning about nature on the whole. It’s there and I’m very pleased about it but I don’t care that much. This year, I’m making more of an effort. 


I point out the tree phenomenon to the little person in my life and I’m relieved she’s not at the chatty point yet because that’s about the sum of my knowledge. To remedy that, I’ve bought a book on the outdoors. It’s a simple one for children about trees, birds, flowers etc but it’s doing me the power of good. I’m hoping that, by the time she’s ready for a full-on conversation, I’ll have slightly more knowledge than she does. 


We’ve just had some snow. Usually, it might present a problem in the sense of getting to work via train, bus or car. I remember how frightened I was when I had to drive through a snow drift with the car slip-sliding away along an unsalted main road to get to work. 

This time I was grounded and there was no need to be afraid.  Instead, I dressed up, put on sensible walking boots and went out to take pictures - along with hundreds of others - in the local park. The air was fresh, fellow humans were laughing and we all somehow reconnected as the snow fell. It’s turned to mush now so it didn’t last long but the cheerful memory lingers.


Talking of parks and the importance of nature, I went for a drive through Richmond Park. It’s still London but feels almost rural and the deer really do own it. I caught a glimpse of three white harts (white deer) - considered a lucky omen - comfortably resting just a little off the road. I wouldn’t have spotted them except I was doing the obligatory 20mph (I usually rail against that) and a shaft of sunlight seemed to settle exactly on their spot. It was a breath-taking moment. Another natural revelation to commit to memory. 


A friend tells me he gets pleasure from checking out the hours of dawn and dusk. He’s a cyclist and he tells me it lifts his spirits to see the days getting longer. I haven’t tried that yet but I might. The clock watching, that is, not the cycling.


I’m learning it’s good to be outside even if it’s for a short while. It reminds me that there is more to life than it may appear when the gloom descends. 


I’d like a vaccination and I’m longing to return to normal life so that remains my long-term focus. In the meantime, I’m going to concentrate on all the previously considered unimportant parts of nature that I’ve missed. For the moment, that’s something to which I can look forward. 



By: Lulu Sinclair


Photo 1: Helen Lord on Unsplash

Photo 2: Steven Cornfield on Unsplash

Photo 3: Valerie Romain on Unsplash


 

Monday, 4 January 2021

Brexit - Positively My Last Word



It is four years since the referendum and Britain is now finally out of the EU - for good or ill, depending on your viewpoint. January is a traditional time for looking forward but this year is like no other in many people’s lifetime; we are uncertain about what it is we have to look forward to. Brexit still remains a very sore subject for almost half the population so I am using this blog to reflect on my own inner conflict.


Discussions about Britain’s “divorce” from Europe started in 2016 and the divorce term was quickly adopted nationwide. I argued the term was inaccurate; it was much more like deciding to leave a club we had once wanted to join but now decided that it no longer suited us and it was time to leave it behind. A bit of regret, perhaps, even some uncertainty but it wouldn’t take long to get over it. It’s the way life is.


I was wrong. The emotions this departure leaves us with are every bit as powerful as a divorce. For those who wish to remain - the abandoned partner - there is disbelief, fury, confusion as to how something started with such optimistic has ended in such abject failure. Very possibly, there is also a very strong desire for revenge. We, representing the EU lover, really want the person who has wronged us to suffer. Believe me, we say, they will. 


We rant on social media; we block friends who take the other’s side and we look forward with glee to proving that it’s all going to end badly. No matter how long it takes, it will.


The other side - the one that got away - is euphoric. This has been a long time coming. The future is blue-sky bright and the horizon stretches for miles in front of us. This is a blessed new dawn.


Neither view is entirely accurate of course. 


The EU, for example, is not perfect. Most of us have complained at one stage or another about its red tape bureaucracy, the fact that one size doesn’t necessarily fit all or we’ve just held on to our particular prejudice against a fellow member. Now, after Brexit, we look back at it all with a rosy glow.


Limitless opportunities or all at sea?

For the Brexiters - note the replacement of the Brexiteer word, which seemed to have a bit too much of a swashbuckling sound to it - they carry the memory of a once-great maritime power with an empire to show us we once ruled much of the globe and we can do so again. However, everyone will be aware times are different now and, as a geographically relatively small independent nation, we could be in for a rough time. 


There will be troubles ahead for both parties and the one who will do best from life will be the one who can accept and make the best of what comes next. 



So, back to the divorce analogy. The financial battle is over, the welfare of the children remains paramount to both parties (so we are told and so we must believe) and they will no longer be used as a bargaining chip for future financial negotiations. All we need to do now is move forward and get on with our own separate lives.


That's the rational, logical and reasonable part of the process. Unfortunately, it's mixed up with emotions and somehow they are always harder to keep under control. A public promise was made to stay together in good and bad times and someone has broken that promise and the grieving partner has been made a fool of - the instigator must be punished. The surging fury and hurt bubbles up to the surface for no obvious reason and we lash out, and the other person lashes out in response. And so it goes on. Unless we find some way of managing those uncontrollable feelings, our lives could be stalled for years, to our detriment.


I have seen clients who stay in this state for far longer than they see me. For some, there is an attachment to such a state of misery that goes way beyond the real value of the marriage. Sometimes I, as an outsider, wonder how they had held on so long. For others, it is all about the investment, the hopes and the dreams. It is about the despair when the marriage comes to an end and all those dreams have gone and there is nothing left. 


Sometimes the process of hearing their hurt is a form of healing. Talking it out does help. But for any psychotherapy to be successful, the client has to want some kind of change to take place. If they are not a willing participant, the process cannot work.


We are still at the very beginning of the Brexit road. We remain a polarised people. The isolation of Covid makes it harder for us to talk this out and our beliefs become even more entrenched.


I’m told there is a clause in the leaving treaty that allows for another re-examination of the situation in four years. For those feeling hopeless, this may represent a chance to reconsider the initial decision. Or, in four years’ time, it may be clear that leaving was the right decision after all. Who knows? 


What I do know, with quite a degree of certainty, is that holding on to such a level of anger and disappointment is not good for anyone’s mental health. All of us need to find some way of moving on, for now at least.




By Lulu Sinclair



Photo 1 by Call Me Fred on Unsplash

Photo 2 by Cinthia Aguilar on Unsplash





 

Tuesday, 15 December 2020

Feeling Grounded


How are you about handbags? This, gentlemen, is not just a question for females. Anyone who aspires to understand what the other sex (gender) is like, needs to know about handbags. A handbag is so much more than somewhere to store necessary objects while moving from one place to another, it’s more like an ever-expanding life’s work, a container of it, in fact. Without it, a person can feel bereft.

A long, long time ago, a friend of mine’s mother explained to me how handbags were there to oppress women and keep them under control. I remember feeling surprised at that idea, particularly as it came from a lady who was a generation on from me and who I wouldn’t have expected to speak in such a feminist way. I was the young deserving feminist after all.


Years later, her words came back to me as I ran for a bus/tram in the eastern part of a now reunited Berlin, slip-sliding my way across the snow and clutching my shoulder bag as I ran. I caught the bus - just - but remember thinking how much easier it would have been to run with both arms free, ready to either grab the handle of the bus or catch myself if I fell head first onto the ground if the ice proved too much for my balance.


I had time to reflect on this once again this week after experiencing another handbag disaster. 


I had taken my own particular style of Pandemicitis into account as I prepared for a next-day outing. Clothes laid out, provisions packed, entertainment planned, etc. and the next day all worked beautifully. In fact, I was early. What a great sense of achievement and superiority I had and I was in such a good mood.


The bag - a container of life
That lasted for a further 40 minutes, until I went to find my phone. It was missing, along with the container in which I had placed it, together with my credit cards and purse (in case of being able to spend cash) and mask and lipstick, to repair damaged caused by the wearing of a mask. In other words, I had left my handbag at home. 


My feeling moved seamlessly from my pride at being ahead of myself and so professionally in control to one of bleak despair. “How could I have been such a fool? Why hadn’t I checked and double checked? How can I possibly look after others when I can’t even manage such an elementary problem?” And so it went on. 


I thought briefly - very briefly - of leaving it as it was but soon realised that was not going to be possible. Within minutes, I had the gnawing sensation in the pit of my stomach that was not going to allow me to move on with my day until that bag was once more firmly within my grasp.


Small charge (all this, by the way, complies with coronavirus restrictions) was bundled up into the car and we made the reverse journey back home. I was edgy and finding it hard to concentrate and reminded a little of what physical feelings the effects of withdrawal can bring.


The return journey (third time within the space of 90 minutes) was quite different. I was relaxed, cheerful, chatty and even able to attempt to sing along to my companion’s small-scale musical needs.


In other words, I was back to being the person I usually am, with the only proviso being that, for now, I seem to have officially become an airhead. My brain more often than not seems to be completely empty.


Some may argue this is an age thing. It may be but it’s curious how it’s affecting so many people of different ages so suddenly. 


Personally, I’d suggest it’s more likely to be connected with the haphazard lifestyle we’re currently experiencing. It seems to me as though we have no longer have a centre of gravity - either in the workplace or outside, we have no fixed agenda and, possibly worst of all, we have no idea when all this is going to end. And humans, as I have been reliably informed, cannot bear living with uncertainty. 


I wrote last time on the ups and downs of of living in the moment and, to a certain extent, this is a continuation of that theme. My 10-months’ experience of living in the moment seems to have closed down that part of the brain that deals with planning, future and all that comes with being an adult. It was fun for a while, but I still want to be in charge of my own destiny while I can.


There is hope of an ultimate end to lockdown, with the vaccine potential moving ever closer although it seems we still have some months to go. 


So, while I wait for my jab, I’m going to aim to return to full adult mode, listening to my gut instinct, being completely present in my body - that means being aware of your whole self: head, shoulders knees and toes and the bits in between - concentrating on the job in hand and taking this time to prepare for the future when I get my life back. 


Meanwhile, until then, I’ll keep my handbag chained to my wrist.




By Lulu Sinclair



Photo 1   Artem Beliaikin on Unsplash

Photo 2   Nickelina Noel on Unsplash


 

Monday, 30 November 2020

Careful What You Wish For


You remember when the talk was all about living in the “here and now”, a technique of mindfulness that helped us to focus on the present, rather than dwell on the past or what may happen in the future?

Well, here we are, living the dream. We are well and truly operating in the here and now on every level. It is no longer an aspirational part of our inner world, where we use it as a form of meditation to help us quell anxious thoughts. It has become part of our reality as a whole, as our inner and outer worlds collide. Who would have thought it? 


Pre-March, the conversation was all about Brexit with Remainers and Brexiters still caught up in their particular argument and unwilling or unable to see the other point of view. The problem and the anger seemed insurmountable.

 

Now, Brexit is almost upon us and who’s talking it about it? It seems so, well, unimportant. It’s not of course. It’s hugely important and significant and may lead to extraordinary complications if a suitable deal is not done. It will have an impact on us long after Covid-19 is done and dusted. However, for all of us stuck in the here and now at present, Brexit is the subject few people are talking about.

   

I was listening to a recent TV interview where the interviewee pointed out that many people voted for Brexit because they believed it would give the UK its  sovereignty and freedom back. The irony, she exclaimed! Brexit has not yet been fully finalised and here we are with less freedom than we’ve had taken from us during our time within the EU.

 

She has a point, one that I don’t think I can bear considering right now, so I’ll have to return to contemplating the increasingly limited things going on in my life and what I am - and am not - allowed to do. 


Fortunately, I can still go out to buy food and drink (probably more than I would in normal times); I can go for a walk - I won’t be breaking the habit of a lifetime and taking to running - or I can stay indoors with my Vitamin D and SAD lamp (which mimics the sun’s rays though fairly ineffectively, I fear) while I organise my time into something worthwhile as the minutes turn into hours, days and months and nothing too much gets done.


I could, but of course I won’t. Like friends, family and clients, I am finding inactivity expands to fill the time. I am lucky to still see clients online and I relish the structure and the mutual support. 


Usually, my role as a counsellor is to be supportive to my client who is looking to work through a problem. Now, we’re all in it together. My client still takes centre stage - each session is always about him or her, not me - but I am grateful for what I learn from them. They offer their own insights into how they are managing and it’s tempting to want to incorporate some of their own coping strategies into my own. It’s easy to see how boundaries, unless carefully watched, could become blurred.


Having switched to online work for the moment, I have a wider base of client. Most live in the UK but some are overseas and I have to admit I am slightly comforted when I hear first-hand that other governments seem to be in as much of a muddle about what to do as ours. Slightly comforted, that is, not entirely reassured. 


I’ve also found it important to understand that not everyone is having a difficult time in this period. Some people have expressed a sense of satisfaction in the sense of: “Now you know how trapped I usually feel” and that’s useful for me to discover. Someone, somewhere, may be feeling the benefit of a situation I’m uncomfortable in. 

I’m hoping a vaccine will bring this situation to an end because I don’t think it’s good for most of us. I don’t want to catch the fear I feel I’m being forced into feeling. I certainly don’t want to catch the virus, nor pass it on to anyone else but I don’t want to live (or, rather, survive) in this enclosed, unsatisfactory way. Fundamentally, I fear being made to feel afraid. It’s unhealthy.


For now, I’ll do as I’m expected in the hope that the situation will get better.


But, as I wander, clueless as a cloud (thank you, Wordsworth, for the inspiration), through the next few days and weeks until we all receive clearer guidance about our future direction, I shall heed that old saying more closely: "Be careful what you wish for." 


Living in the here and now may not be quite as beneficial as it once seemed.



By Lulu Sinclair



Photo 1: Katerina Jerabkova on Unsplash

Photo 2: Buchen WANG on Unsplash

 

Monday, 9 November 2020

Putting On Your Big Boy Pants


The best quote of the US presidential elections surely has to be: "What the President needs to do frankly is put his big boy pants on.

It was said by Philadelphia mayor Jim Kenney as he encouraged Donald Trump to concede defeat as President-elect Jim Biden was declared winner.


I don't need to go on. If you have an interest in political affairs, you'll know the rest. If you don't, you won't care. 


But what an expression. What a picture it evokes. I know pants is the  American word for trousers so it’s not quite as much fun in their eyes as in my mind (I envisaged Superman-style pants) but even so it tells it as it is. It is time for Mr Trump to grow up and accept the situation as it is. 


Mr Trump’s presidency has been fascinating because it seems extraordinary that a late middle-aged man (74) gained the highest office in the US while never appearing to be anything but a giant child.


He spoke simply and clearly without the use of big complicated words; his beliefs appeared to be black and white and, if anyone criticised him, wow was he cross! I'm keeping my language simple, as he did. 


He kept everything simple, dismissing North Korea’s President Kim Jong-un as “rocket man”; taking a different view on global warming: “It’s freezing and snowing in New York - we need global warming” and making splendid boasts of his achievements and the reason why he was so popular. At one time, he memorably summed himself up, saying: “The beauty of me is that I’m very rich.”  


And 70 million Americans still voted for him on election day, making the race much closer than expected (Joe Biden has so far won 74m votes). This man-child that is Trump still has a great deal of appeal.


I didn’t expect him to win first time round. I saw him as the larger-than-life Apprentice show boss with an interesting head of hair and an orange skin tone. He seemed to me to be quite a laughable character, not someone to take seriously.


I was wrong.  

I am still trying to get my head around his appeal as a politician. Is it an aspirational thing - if he can do it, so can I? Is it that his self-belief is almost hypnotic or do people really believe he can do what he says he will do? Building a wall between Mexico and the US, for example, and making Mexico pay for it.


Certainly, he gave people hope when they felt they had none. He successfully appealed to the workers whose jobs had gone as globalisation crept in. Trump was the visual epitome of raging against the machine, I suppose.


He had a fair degree of political cunning, assuring supporters he’d “drain the swamp” and root out the perceived corruption in Washington. In reality, I’m not sure how well he did on that.


He use the phrase “fake news” to great effect and that helped block rational argument. You were either for or against him. A goodie or a baddie there was no in-between bit as far as he was concerned. In therapeutic terms, it's known as black and white thinking and means an inability to see a way of bringing together positive and negative qualities and only able to see in absolutes - there is no shade of grey.


And that is what we expect from children. Something is fair or not in their eyes. If someone is unkind to them, they bear a grudge, they want to hit back and punish the baddie. No surprise there. But surely that’s not something we expect from a president.   


The surprise for me is that so many adults chose to vote not once, but twice for this man-child. If it is just because of his appeal, then I am quite lost. While, personally, I find his utterings and performance highly entertaining, I’m not entirely confident that President Trump was the ideal man for the job. But how can 70 million voters be wrong?


There is a glimmer of hope. 

I read that it’s more complicated - to me as an outsider at any rate - than it may seem. Some more in the know than I, say those 70m Americans who still voted for Trump had a different reason. They voted less for Trump the man and more for the values of the party for which he stood.


I understand calls to “defund” the police and the increasing normalisation of identity politics and the “wokeism” which comes with it played a large part in the decision of those who voted for Trump and against Joe Biden and the Democrats - something about which senior Democrat politicians are continuing to warn.


Phew, that’s a relief. Those 70 million people who cast their vote for the Trump this time around made a reasonable and rational decision and one I can respect.


I was beginning to get slightly worried that the people of the Western world had become so used to a man-child ruler that they wanted him to remain as president. 


Looks like we're all ready to put on our big boys pants.  






By Lulu Sinclair



Photo 1 mana5280 on Unsplash

Photo 2  Dave Lowe on Unsplash

Photo 3 Ian Hutchinson on Unsplash