The disconnect between the extraordinary events unfolding in Paris this week and my own life's modest progression is difficult to reconcile. I don't follow the news as I work. But yesterday, every so often, in checking my Twitter feed, or turning on the radio news, I was reminded of the way that some peoples' quotidian existence has been dramatically and tragically interrupted. The press relish these events. They make a good story. They are the stuff of drama, of suspense, of horror. A banal tune can infiltrate my mind, so that I inadvertently hum it, as I go. In the same way these days of bad news are like an earworm, infecting my thoughts. Logically I know that, even if something equally ghastly were to happen in Central London today, I would be extremely unluck to be caught up in it. I've lived in London since the early eighties. I've lived through IRA bombings, through gulf war extremism and anti-semitic attacks. In a city you get used to the odd street fight, the menace of late night drug dealing, football hooliganism and even the frenzied ravings of shoppers fighting to reach a sale bargain. But the drip, drip infiltration of bad news can not help but destabilise me a bit. Yesterday I enjoyed a productive and enjoyable day. I met a friend of mine, a musician, and we discussed recording equipment for the chapel. I had lunch with Mike in a favourite cafe, sitting in the window seat from where I can watch the world go by, waving to neighbours as they passed. I stayed on in the cafe, meeting a couple of officers from Westminster City Council, discussing the detail of the constitution of my neighbourhood forum. The conversation was pertinent to the goings-on in France, though I didn't recognise it at the time. We were trying to work out how to ensure that the forum maintained a balance. The concerns were not racial ones. Instead we were wondering how we could engage both residents and businesses in the process. They are bound to have different views. The businesses are not very interested. In consultation work one must always try to engage with the disengaged. It's hard work. It's even harder work to try an empathise with views that I personally don't agree with. Yet today, with a background of terror coming through every news service, it is worth reflecting on the consequences of polarisation. Democracy doesn't accommodate minority views very well. It's the majority who win the day. The minority view, even if it has validity is often ignored. A good politician will consider opposing ideas. The great general Montgomery would always listen to any idea from his men, however madcap it seemed at first. He would consider pros and cons with the originator, and only dismiss it after both of them were satisfied. It is said that some of his best ideas had their birth in one of these mad ideas. I finally got to watch myself on television last night. We went round to see mum, who was naturally delighted to see me on Britain's Best Gardens. People had said that building a vegetable garden on the roof was madcap. The film was shot last summer. The garden looked beautiful. I was reminded how soothing it is to sit in my rooftop garden on a sunny day. Last night I broke my New Year alcohol fast to imbibe a small glass of red wine. And though it was only a thimbleful, I'm sure it was the pressure of the news, rather than my busy day, that raised my thirst. On camera I'd said, "A little bit of foliage is good for the soul." I suspect we are all feeling the need for a little balm, be it actual or metaphorical, this morning.
"A little bit of foliage is good for the soul"
