Rain Sodden Valleys

The state of this…


Y’know what what, Liddle? I bloody well adore my “rain sodden valley”. Especially at this time of year when it’s just coming out of winter and those rainclouds part in such a way as to light up them up with such sunlight it’s as thought the colour saturation has been turned up on the whole world. When it’s still raining but the sun breaks through and there are rainbows intense enough to look photoshopped onto the landscape even though you’re standing right there and can feel it and smell it.

When that spring rain sets everything to grows so fast, that you can walk the same path almost the next day and it’ll be different and the greens of the new growth, thrusting up through the mud and last year’s dead leaves are so bright they’re almost yellow and everything smells of the almost-coconut of gorse and broom and the sweetness of garden-escaped blackcurrant blossom.

And I love the language, the way it gifts me a second way of seeing the world, the way all those extra vowels roll off the tongue and clitterclatter against the consonants and the way that unique sound turned over centuries into a form of poetry – beauty built out of complexity into a form that your dull, plodding, monoglot mind which you use for nothing better than insulting people, doesn’t even have a word for.

If that dull mind of yours had bothered to learn even the tiniest scrap of history or geography you’d know those rain-sodden valley floors run red with the rust of old railways and tramways and weed-clutttered canals that once ferried out a fortune in natural resources.

Your precious ‘first world’ England that you think we should abandon our home for, was built on our mineral wealth. It was built on the choking dust that ruined our colliers’ lungs, and the slurry that buried the school in Aberfan and the communities destroyed when you dammed those valleys and let the rain fill them to feed your English factories.

The wealth of the country that you seem so proud of is built on sickness and theft and the deaths of children and you have the absolute front to sit there and mock the poverty your people left behind them and the culture they tried to kill.

You absolute sociopath.

You disgusting, colonising pig.



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