The PR Blog

As our world descends into a chaotic shadow of its former moral self, I have been thinking about finding a way out of this maze of cancel culture, identity politics, sexual dysphoria and narcissistic  self gratification. Our governments are herding us into lockdown, exile and social isolation whilst assuring us that it is for our own. good. So many people are happy to receive an unemployment payment, sit home and take selfies - as long as there is food and drink and a roof over their heads. 

Yet the sage words of John Steinbeck and John Calhoun are increasingly in my thoughts these days. Will we ever find our way out of this maze?

Almost 200 years ago this expression was first used … “bolt hole”.

It has a few meanings, …  a hole in an animal's den, or through a wall or fence, used for escape or emergency exit; i.e. a hole the animal may bolt through, or (figurative) a second home, etc. where a person can go to escape the stresses of everyday life.

If you are suspected of being a bit naughty in Australia, your mates in power can spy on your social media and email accounts and you won't even know it. By " you " I mean "us " and this makes me feel a bit uncomfortable and dare I say violated. 

Seriously, have we truly come to this? Being spied on by our federal police if they suspect that we are up to no good?

From sleepless nights to stubbed toes and nightmares, tangled hair and sniffy noses, Mum always had a remedy. Yet these days, governments are preventing mothers from doing what Mums do best - loving and caring for their children without stifling their ability to grow and thrive.

Rapidly approaching the big NINE O, along with many others at the same stage of life’s interesting and sometimes troubled journey, I should be relaxing contentedly with friends and relations, enjoying the mind boggling range of new sights and sounds and knowledge not previously encountered, reliving with them the many wonderful experiences of past years, rejoicing in the journey to maturity of children and grandchildren who have grown up so rapidly, having left behind the childhood years seemingly in the blink of an eye … and yet …

When I was a lad, life was simpler, harder yet straightforward and honest. As the world is flooded with newfangled gadgetry and newfangled woke spoke, I find myself looking back on the post war years with a strange regret. Life is so newfangled that it is a complex place of ever-increasing innovation, and gratitude for the simple things in life is a far distant memory. We should consider how imprisoned we have become in this newfangled world which has rewarded us with so much and yet taken even more by stealth.