when to spit

WHEN TO SPIT

WHEN TO SPIT

In these days when one is afraid to turn on the  news in the morning for fear of the atrocities that may have happened overnight, I was reviewing the pathetically little I know about the Ukraine.

It is interesting in that it is one of the few countries that takes a ‘the’.   It came under the category of the Soviet Union but it sought independence by democratic vote some years ago.   It’s in Eastern Europe.   It’s described as the bread basket of Europe and so one concludes it must be fairly flat, at least in places.   That’s the sum total of my knowledge of it – or was until a week ago.

Meanwhile I’ve been watching Vladimir Putin with  interest and  amusement for some time.  He’s been in power for 22 years and has not been proof against the egotism  and errors of judgement that one would expect such a long and unopposed period of being in power would bring.   He is evidently subject to vanity –  riding bare chested on  a horse;  being filmed on longer and longer walks to speak to an assembly of his subordinates – they   are clearly not his equals – and talking to other world leaders at tables so long that it would require a loudspeaker to converse.   However, it’s not funny any longer.

Empire building tsars (or communist expansionists) should read their history very carefully before embarking on costly war campaigns.   No-one, for example, should ever attempt to take over Moscow.   The inhabitants withdraw from the city into their vast hinterland where they can survive but nobody else can, and simply wait for the Winter to carry the invading army away.     No-one should attempt to occupy Afghanistan.   Various powers have attempted it, and invariably after a protracted and costly war, they have to go back to wherever they came from, leaving Afghanistan as it was before they foolishly meddled with it.   Some countries are ungovernable.   Scotland is one of those.   It is said that Septimus Severus’ incursion into Scotland cost him 50,000 men with nothing much to show for this and Rome decided that Scotland was too far away and not worth the cost, and so they built the wall.   Ireland regards England where it is involved in its affairs as an illegal, occupying army, who has no legitimate business there and they periodically bestir themselves to make on-going involvement too costly and too much bother.  Of course the world power, whoever they are, or the power challenging for the role, can temporarily over-run a small country,  but an initial conquest of war is one thing; profitable occupation is another.

Putin has calculated that because the Russian military power is vastly superior to that of the Ukraine and other powers who might support it are afraid of  his threatened nuclear attack, that he can do whatever he likes, and certainly he is inflicting severe damage and hurt to his neighbour, and causing great anxiety in what we like to refer to as the Free World.   It is very sad to see pictures of what had been a beautiful city reduced to heaps of smoking ruins and to hear the sorry tales of people fleeing from their country with only a few clothes, and largely women and children because men have remained behind to fight in what one fears on the face of it is a lost cause.

But the Ukranians have been so true and gallant that we have to join them in their faith in ultimate justice and support them however we can.    Miracles do happen.

I have only had the pleasure of meeting one Ukranian but the incident is worth recounting for it has relevance to the present unhappy situation.   Elisabeth was moving in to an unfurnished basement flat in London.   We, with Rory had spent the day cleaning, building furniture, installing electronics.   We were finished and she treated us to dinner as a thank you.  She chose the nearest restaurant and out we went.   We were tired and in our work clothes and we just wanted to be fed.   Cottage Pie or Sausage Stew would have been our choice.  Instead we found ourselves in an elegant up-market establishment where the only menu was a seven course tasting one.   We recognised that  we were in the wrong place and it was our fault not theirs and settled down to enjoy what they had to offer.  The waiter was urbane and sophisticated and was kind enough not to sneer at our inappropriate attire.   I remember one item was Dashi Foam but I have no recollection what this was.   As the meal drew to a close I asked the waiter where he was from.   He replied, ‘The Ukraine.’    Elisabeth said to him, ‘We were nearly right.   We thought you were Russian’, to which he responded with passion, ‘I spit on Russia.’  This was in 2008.

They  are still spitting on Russia.