Herald letter: “Count The Spoons”

(The section in italics was cut by the Herald and did not appear in the paper.)

Sir,

I HAVE recently received an election communication through the post from the SNP. I am told that it has been mailed directly to many others across Scotland.

As a matter of public service, I would like to point out to any others of your readers who may receive it that it contains a number of untruths in claiming achievements for the SNP.

The most obvious of these are free elderly care, free university tuition for Scottish students and free bus travel for pensioners. It is of course a matter of public record that all of these were introduced by the earlier Labour-Liberal Democrat coalitions. Those less generous than myself might also notice that the Borders Railway (another “SNP” achievement) was signed up by the Lab/LibDem administration before it left power in 2007.

Such untruths only go to reinforce the sense that if you are unfortunate enough to have Nicola Sturgeon or your local SNP candidate come round for tea, you should be careful to count the spoons before they leave.

Your readers may also like to ask themselves how these services are paid for. The answer is of course that they are only possible because of the many billions of pounds that Scotland receives under the pooling and sharing arrangements of the United Kingdom. Yes, the same United Kingdom that the SNP wishes to kiss goodbye to – along with all of the funding that comes with it.

That is not on the direct mail shot either.

Peter A Russell

 

Monologue Of An Emigrant – Mascha Kaleko

Inspired by our recent visit to Berlin: my translation of a work by a poet who grew up and lived there as a young woman before fleeing to the USA in 1938. After World War 2 she lived in Israel, and died in 1975 in Zurich, on the return journey from her last visit to Berlin.

Emigré Monologue.
Mascha Kaléko trans. Peter Russell

Once I had a wonderful Fatherland
So sang the refugee Heine
His was on the banks of Rhine
Mine was built on Brandenburg sand

What we once had (see above) one and all
Was devoured by the plague, pulverised at the Fall
O, Goethe’s rose upon the heath,
Strength Through Joy turned you to weeds

Brahms’ nightingales fell dumb
And then sought a safer home
The sole cry the vulture overhead
Circling over the rows of dead

It will never again be as it was
If things should even change
Even if the Lied’s sweet bell chimes
Even if no sword is drawn again

To me sometimes it seems as if
My heart will break and more.
Now and then I suffer homesickness:
I just cannot say what for…