I thought it was tough being young under Margaret Thatcher, but being middle aged under this shower feels so much worse. And I caught some of the sharper ends of Thatcherism – signing on, living in squats, hitching everywhere, no money at all. There was everything from war to the miners’ strike to the destruction of the north. There was plenty to complain about, and we did – at length.
Yet still this feels worse. The airless finality of Brexit, austerity, the battered NHS, the rise of nationalism, and on it grinds. Maybe it’s not the times, it’s just my time – I’m older, things are hitting me harder. But I’ve got a teenager and a twentysomething. It feels like my duty to clamber out of my sour, fogey, Remainer-funk and wonder what young people must be making of their bequeathed world – as the song says, this “empire of dirt”?
Continue reading...from The Guardian https://ift.tt/2spdU6I
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