My what a beautiful Sunday

My what a beautiful day. Sun is shining, birds are singing and some people, a little bit smarter than the crowd, have already loaded their cars and are heading to the beaches and beauty spots around Our Country.

But in some drives, cars will sit untaxed, their fuel tanks empty, their owners, whose jobs were taken by cheap imported foreign labour can no longer afford to keep them on the road.

And in the gardens of some homes today, people will be looking up at their houses and finally accept that they are going have to sell the home they struggled to buy, because they have lost their jobs when the company they worked for all their lives, relocated to India or Eastern Europe.

Now, a nurse is pulling back the curtains in a ward of an hospital where a young 14 year old white boy lies unconscious , unaware of his mother holding his hand, who is wondering just why a dozen "Asian" youths would attack her son for no reason other than he was white and walking through "their part" of town.

And a 16 year old girl and her mother, who have not slept in months, try to decide whether the girl should keep the baby she is having as a result of being gang raped. What shall I do Mam?

And in other homes, the curtains will be drawn all day and grieving husbands will sit and stare at their wives crying, still unable to accept that their soldier son has died in a foreign land as a result of the posturing on the world stage of the war criminal Blair.

My, it really is a beautiful day.


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