Shropshire Star

Peter Rhodes on a doggy error, a revolution on the forecourts and a grim outlook for statues everywhere

Read the latest column from Peter Rhodes.

Published
Lily James as Linda in The Pursuit of Love

Poetry in the weather. I smiled to hear the outlook for a much-loved little island: “Thundery in Lundy.”

Still on isobars and suchlike, there are lies, damned lies and tabloid weather forecasts. This, from last week's Daily Express: “Britons are set to bake in 22C heat as the summer finally arrives in the UK due to a band of hot Atlantic air hitting the country next week.” Seriously, is anyone baking yet . . ?

The Pursuit of Love (BBC1) has had a Marmitey sort of reception from the critics with love and hate in equal measure. I loved it, especially the scene when the posh-but-dim Linda (Lily James) runs away to work with refugees in the Spanish Civil War. She is given the task of allocating ship cabins. At they board the boat, the poorest folk discover they have been allocated the most luxurious cabins.

Linda explains: “I simply gave the best cabins to the people who had 'Labrador' on their card because I used to have one when I was little and he was . . . so sweet, you know.” She was unaware that “Labrador” is a Spanish term for farm labourer.

The Church of England is checking thousands of monuments in churches and cathedrals that refer to slavery and colonialism. Some are expected to be removed. And while that may be a laudable aim, where does it end? We are horrified at the language, beliefs and behaviour of 300 years ago. But in years to come our descendants may be equally offended by today's supposedly enlightened attitudes. I bet there is not a single blameless hero of wokeness alive today whose statue might not be ripped down by future generations.

And that includes sculptor Philip Jackson's wonderful, amazingly powerful statue of a Covid-19 medic in full PPE with only her care-worn eyes visible behind a visor and mask. Today, we applaud this statue as the symbol of a nation's dogged response to an overwhelming pandemic. But how will future generations, with their own “enlightened” values, judge it? As a cynical distraction from a government's failures?

As a celebration of industrialised medicine? As elitist triumphalism (why a medic, why not an NHS cleaner?). And so on. Our national pastime is taking offence on behalf of others and once the virtue-signalling begins, no statue is safe.

A friend, about to buy a new car, was surprised that her little one-litre runabout is worth £800 more in part-exchange than it was two years ago. At the same time you may have noticed garage forecourts are filling up with elderly BMWs, Mercs and similar luxury bangers.

We all know that from 2030 all new cars will have to be electric, and Lord knows how much a gallon of petrol will cost by then. The Great British motorist appears to be downsizing rapidly. I didn't expect to see the revolution beginning quite so soon.

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