The Queen Is Dead ; God Save The King; God help Scotland.

My Mum is a lifelong Republican but like me she was in tears tonight. She recalled sore memories of 1953 when she and her Mum had planned to watch the Coronation on a neighbour’s telly, but my Gran died a couple of days beforehand. She died, an asthma victim,  because of neglect by medics. My Mum was 11 years old; at no time in her loss was there any effort to understand her loss, its impact or to ease her grief, just a child let down by a country diverted by and devoted to imperialism.

A celebration became a constant hurt reverberating once more tonight. My Mum’s older brother did his National Service in Kenya in the days of the Mau Mau and he understood the duplicity and terror of the British State. I am sure he had PTSD as the result of his service. It went unremarked and for sure not compensated, just as the brutality of the British upon Kenyan innocents remains an open sore.

Mum’s oldest brother had mental health issues which involved the mental health officers of Clackmannanshire and Fife Councils describing him as ‘attention-seeking’ as they didn’t and couldn’t understand why he wouldn’t conform to their norms. He couldn’t express himself and so he was lost. The Queen opened the ‘facility’ where eventually he lived. Nobody was interested in his opinions but they all had time and money for her red carpet and paint and medals. 

So I am sad that an old lady died today and her family have my complete sympathy. My Dad died in August 2020 after many months of shabby treatment. I won’t forgive or forget.   Scotland deserves far better; the medical attention afforded to the Queen ought to be available to all. That it  is not is shameful and testament to the priorities of a government elected to deliver an egalitarian Scotland.