It was funny returning to Farnborough yesterday. Moving away, aged 16, I was devastated; returning at every available opportunity. But now some years have passed and the visits have become less and less frequent. The only visit I can remember in the past two years didn’t see me going further than the railway station before I was whisked off to Basingstoke in Craig’s car (to see the fabulous Amelie).
So walking those oh-so-familiar streets but no longer seeing any familiar faces felt more than a little strange, specially since so little had changed. Okay, so the post office in Queensmead has been demolished, the Red Cross hut on St. John’s Rd. has been replaced with houses, and various shops have opened and closed. But they all felt rather superficial. It was home, and it wasn’t home. Returning to familiar streets as if for the first time.
Meanwhile the news has turned to Iraq once again. Reading the latest reports it is tempting to rail on about how Israel is in contravention of dozens of UN resolutions, yet we don’t go to war with them, but what strikes me is the bewildering possibility that we could end up going to war with the only backbench MPs supporting the Prime Minister being members of the opposition. I don’t know if that’s precedented. I can certainly imagine it happening back in the 19th century. But it does seem that our party political system has major incongruities to deal with.