Yes, I did go to Sunday school.  At the small parish church in Horsington.  St John the Baptist’s has all the features you would expect of an English village church.  Back in the 1960s a small area was set aside for Sunday school.  I hear there’s still a children’s corner in the Church.  Also, as a family we attended the Methodist Chapel in South Cheriton.  Contrasting with the CoE, this was a place where animated lay-preachers offered a more down to earth view of heaven and hell. 

I’m telling you this just to give a little background on what shaped my view of right and wrong.  A lot more than this youthful experience seeped into my subconscious as I became agnostic about religion.  Being sceptical probably came more from non-conformism, my secondary school teachers and my argumentative nature than any sermons or doctrine. 

Out of a vibrant mix in the 60s and 70s, I developed a rational way of looking at the world and a strong sense that people should tell the truth.  That there are such things as provable facts.  That progress is the natural order.  And that you help yourself by helping others.  Now, this all sounds strangely retro as I reflect on what has happened over the last few weeks. 

Taking the UK out of the European Union will be hugely complex.  A lot of people said it would be hugely complex.  Many sound arguments were set out as to why it would be hugely complex.  Regardless of all that this is the path that has been chosen by a majority of voters in the UK all but by a small margin.  That said, I can’t help but think that a deception has been practiced on the British people.  So many half-truths and nefarious speculations were put-up on banner headlines.  Dubious statistics and manipulated facts presented bright and colourful did sway the direction the vote took. 

Now, a flurry of back tracking is underway.  Quick comparisons with before and after interviews make it clear: a week really is a long time in British politics.  Outcomes are manifold but one is to reward those who made the biggest exaggerations and told the dodgiest selective stories.  So, how can this be right?  I guess, it isn’t. 

Author: johnwvincent

Our man in Southern England

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