An Elephant of One's Own

"But seeing no man does willingly suffer himself to be punished by the deprivation of any part of his goods, and much less of his liberty or life, therefore, is the magistrate armed with the force and strength of all his subjects, in order to the punishment of those that violate any other man’s rights." (Locke, First Letter Concerning Toleration ) Rights. According to me, the result of negotiations between a big fella and a little fella, inscribed on vellum or nearest locally available equivalent. Uncle Wiki may say different, but I think that's how most people understand the word. If you (little fella) have a right to X, it means big fella can't stop you doing or having X, or rather he can , but if he does he's tearing up the contract and he better watch out, because if he tears up the contract then you'll... um. This is where we run into difficulties. If your "rights" are trampled on, you'll do what? The Frowning Fathers had their own answ...

It's raining, at the moment, but (vide supra) probably not for long. We may get another week and then that's yer lot until next winter. So I'm trying to do what I can with this rain, but find my thoughts turning increasingly to England, and the wise thrush, and all of that. England. I left the place in '85, and haven't been back except for flying visits (holidays when my mother was alive). I watch enough YT and read enough Guardian to know that the place has become unrecognisable since, and that I would be a foreigner, of the comical stuck in a timewarp sort, like Rees Mogg only loucher and more disgusting. I wouldn't fit in any better there than I do anywhere else. I'm a statistical anomaly on any scale you can invent. Even my vowels are behind the times. But none of this stops me fantasising about, what was it, old ladies cycling to church through a morning johnmajor, or in my version, lining up at the National Gallery or plonking down in a Turkish tea...