You all know how much I love my taxi-driver stories because they demonstrate the triumph of the human spirit, of love and endeavour over hardship, one person at a time.
I live in a community where nameless individuals think it’s an acceptable part of our collective moral compass to erect signs like this in multiple locations around the post code.
In a previous post I described the growing “social unrest” around the proposed Eruv in our affluenza-infected urban village.
Also, my incredulity at the English upper-working class snobbery and ignorance displayed on my own doorstep (if you missed that READ here).
The debate continues and has included some priceless observations:
“anyway, bats can’t sense the wires and they are a protected species”
“anyway, there are a lot of Jewish people who don’t like the idea of the Eruv – there are only 10-15 families of orthodox Jews in the area and the Eruv will attract more”
It has been a bit of a joke so far but now that the objectors (presumably) feel that they are losing ground, a more sinister stench begins to creep in, like a contaminated Mediaeval smog, whilst we sleep.
How do I feel about those who have gone to the trouble of composing, printing and physically posting in this way?
It’s hard to say as my emotions range from anger to pity.
Surely even one day of global news watching would be sufficient to contextualise their actions, insinuations and objections as puerile?
Live – and let live.