Softly Shouting

 image Yui Mok/PA Wire, The Independent But Starmer is very wrong... Proclaiming the protest group ‘Palestine Action’ a proscribed organisation and any support for it a crime punishable by up to 14 years in prison has caused a bit of a stooshie in the UK and in Scotland. Dragging away elderly ladies who are clutching a placard stating that genocide is being committed in Gaza and that they support the Palestinian effort for peace and freedom is not good optics for any politician who asserts him- or herself on the left of the political spectrum. In the last few weeks hundreds of people have been arrested for flouting the ban. What is this ban, why is it in place and why is it wrong? ‘Ban’ comes from the Proto-Germanic bannan ‘to speak publicly’, and via Old High German bannan ‘to command or forbid under threat of punishment’. There is a bit of Old Frisian in there as well: bonna, which translates as ‘to order, command, proclaim’. [1] Which is, in this context, an interesting journey...

  One day, Poirot went missing. He occasionally absconded for a day or so, usually when the nights were short and the hormones raging, but he had never been away for three nights in a row. Barry and Aggie scoured the streets; Aggie muttering when the slow-moving tourists would not get out of the way of her wheelchair. ‘Make way! Make way! Crippled coming through! Oh, for fuck’s sake, get your arse in gear, woman! I’d like to get there before Christmas!’ It was futile. After two days of searching, Barney stuck little notes on lamp posts. ‘Missing! Have you seen Poirot?’ With one of the nicest photos of Poirot he could find. Well, anyway, one where the cat wasn’t poised to sink his teeth or his claws in an unsuspecting leg. The staff and the residents in the care home were quietly hopeful that Poirot would not return. When the staff made moves to get rid of the paraphernalia of cat owners – the litter tray and the tin opener- Aggie had to use all her powers of persuasion (and...

  Last week,  in the sea at La Sablettes, (Toulon, Var, France) I saw something that warmed my heart. In the sea, submerged to their necks, were three young Muslim women, clad in burkinis, various drapes and a head scarf. It was 34 degrees and full sun; the beach was as busy as Buchanan Street on the Saturday before Christmas. Earlier that day I witnessed a woman being stretchered off by paramedics, drip and oxygen attached. Probably a heat stroke. Many is the time that I spared a thought for Muslim women, wearing the hijab, niqab or abaya in this sweltering heat. And here were three women, girls actually, confounding expectations, having fun in the waves and cooling down like everyone else. Here in the Var, and elsewhere in France have been many attempts to ban burkinis. A burkini is a super- modest swimsuit, not much different from a full wetsuit. Hair, legs and arms are covered enabling Muslim women to go bathing and swimming without compromising their faith. In France, the...