October 12, 2020


By our guest reporter Vera Leftwards

The Orion constellation shines above treetops on a slightly cloudy winter evening.
Photo by Adrian Pelletier / Unsplash

Being left handed means that you are clumsy, awkward, you live in a right handed world. In my era teachers tried to get you to write with your right hand, they tried it with me. They got nowhere, so I am someone awkward. A rebel? That act I suppose made me an outsider. Good!

I am a member of the awkward squad. I have been known to resist or obstruct things. I lean to the left, both posturally and politically. I mourned the death of Bob Crow, a trade union firebrand if ever there was one. I studied politics at Swansea University. Class War the anarchist group started there, but I never got their politics, it was far too nihilistic for me. Whilst I was there I met my hero Tony Benn at a lecture he gave at Swansea University in 1998. Part of his talk was about sovereignty and the European Union, it was a hot topic even then. The theatre was packed, and his speech was impeccably given. He was a true orator, but hated by many who really did not listen in depth to what he said. He was a moderniser, a modernist I think, it was an adjunct idealism that grew out of his 'leftist' leanings. He made mistakes, he was not perfect. Nobody is. That night I made a mistake I forgot to bring a book for him to sign. In the words of Homer Simpson. D'oh!

I wrote recently about life being physically awkward, but at the moment life is awkward, relationships are awkward. For instance, I cannot remember the last time I saw the night. At this time of year the winter constellation of stars will become visible, one of the most visible is Orions Belt and if you look carefully you might see the Orion Nebula. Even the Moon evades me. But life must go on and one must have a Buddhist outlook on life? Maybe? I want to sit with a hip flask of whisky and stare at the stars like I used to with my big shaggy Irish Wolfhound sitting on my feet. Bloody Hell that hurt sometimes!


Above is my Irish Wolfhound Molly, a beautiful and kind animal.

To end this post one of my favourite poems was written by Norman Cameron called 'Forgive me Sire' a very short poem published in 1950, the last line of the poem reads: {I am} one of the neat ones in your awkward squad and I am indeed blessed to be one of those in the awkward squad.