A couple of Sunday rants

I posted this on Facebook today when sharing a piece in The Observer. Yes, it's political, and I try not to do political on my blog/newsletter, but just at the moment I am so incensed with everything going on around us, it is almost all I can think about. So here goes:

 I know, I know. I keep posting pieces from The Guardian and The Observer - well, I'm loyal. I used to work for The Observer and my father worked for The Guardian. But they have columnists like Jack Monroe, who highlight the issues of which we should all be aware. This is shocking. And all too frequently, the empty shelves are blamed on the damaged supply chain (lorry drivers) and Brexit. And, of course, that is so often true. (Oh, yes it is.) But not always. I'm bloody lucky - without an income apart from my state pension (go on, try living on that) I write novels which have kept the wolf from the door for the last sixteen years. So I've got to keep on doing that, whether I like it or not, or I shall be in the same position as the elderly gentleman who ate his toothpaste for dinner - something quoted here by Jack. And being a novelist is actually quite hard work and very precarious - it is NOT, as so many people think, a sinecure. OK - I'll shut up now. Sunday rant over - nothing to see here...

And in reply to a comment: 

Yes - that Jack! The original Boot Strap Cook! I've got a couple of her books as well as following her on Twitter and her blog. It really makes you wonder about the cretins supposedly in charge of us all - how have they NOT seen the food banks? The homeless? Because apparently, they haven't. Oh - and where, oh where are the charity depots to which I can give clothing for refugees and the homeless? Plenty of charity shops who will SELL my unwanted clothes, but none who will give them to people who actually NEED them. Actually, we do know some lovely people who will do just that, but they are private individuals, and of course, it appears that everything worthwhile IS down to private individuals these days. Sorry, Arabella. That led into my second Sunday rant... with plenty of capital letters.