Who Wants To Live Forever?

I received an email about my site and the stories and posts I have written. The writer said how much they liked the interesting connections I made between things, and how they were looking forward to the next installment of Ruskin’s story. The email asked that I seemed sad. Sad is not the word, devoid of all desire for existence to the core of my being is nearer the mark. Sad would be nice at least there would be some emotion to feel.

Ruskin’s story is about the total full on loving of life. But soon the story must enter the darkness of the world we had to live within. The media is full of politicians claiming they did not know this or this was unforeseen. This is not true. The news media seems no longer wants to report truth or facts or how things really are, or their worst sin report on the solutions of how to make this world a better place for all living things. The world seems to have become addicted to misery and other people rejoice that their life, their raisond’etre is about conquoring or fighting misery. We don’t need the misery there in the first place. Who created this misery, this greed, this hatered that surrounds us.

One of the things Ruskin taught me was although we were different species, we could get on, we were best friends. Even the rare times when we did nothing, we were just comfortable in each others company. So why are people killing each other all over the world? Why do we have a Government that thought it was OK and acceptable to drop bombs on children? Then a few years when another country does the same, why did they think they had the moral high  ground to tell them not to. What is all this rubbish the media and the politicians talk about, this thing I cannot touch, hear, feel, see or smell. This nonentity call ‘The Economy’. I get politicians on my TV, an endless parade of clones all dressed in stupid clothes, with tight pieces of material tied around their necks. They seem to think it looks good and sensible. But I can remember when a was a kid playing getting told off for tying things round my neck. I was told it was dangerous.

They are obsessed with this economy thing. Why? The ‘economy’ is only a tool. Part of a means. You can use a spanner to fix a car. But it would be absolutly pointless to say we all need cars to justify and ensure the existence of spanners. Life, love, kindness, truth, integrity, happiness, beauty, compassion are some of the things  I want them to be concerned with. If we need something called an ‘economy’  to assist in bringing these about, fine I can go for that. But I have never heard of anyone buying a car for the sole reason of justify the existence of a spanner they keep in the shed. I just wish all those involved in misery industries would just resign and do something more beneficial with their lives.

So why am I beyond sad. Every word about I write about Ruskin’s life brings back memories. If they are happy ones they make me cry because he has gone. If they are sad ones they make me cry because they are sad or recall some trauma. But I have to tell his story. Because his story is important, and in telling it will save other lives. Peoples and animals. I owe it to him to make his life of value, over and above just the sheer joy he brought to all those he met.

Then there is the hypocrasy. Catherine O’Driscoll’s work on this site on vaccinations talks about psycopaths. This is something new to me over the last few months. Not the people, but the term, applied to people who are out there right now. I know of people who have committed the most serious crimes. I know of people who have deliberately and intentionally killed people. I thought there was this thing called the rule of law and if people had done really bad things then the police would do something. I found this not to be true, because of who they are, certain people are allowed to kill people, are permitted to make the lives of others a misery. The police would not do anything to prevent peoples deaths in the future. Some people are above the law and it doesn’t apply to them.

One reason Ruskin was brought to Scotland was to hide him away to protect him. People could get to me through him. In away I am glad he is dead and we lived a full life together. Because now he is in a safe place, where he cannot be hurt.  Before his pyre was lit I spoke of many things, of our life together. I told him of those he had known in his life who had gone before, and who would be waiting for him.

I asked him to wait for me. For if there is a heavan or hell and when my time is done. All I would wish is to walk for all eternity with him again through endless green meadows and woods. Or even streets deserted at night. Weather didn’t matter, it made no difference to our fun.

But before we were reunited I promised him I would continue our work to protect and look after the animals of the Earth. Many times we came close to  achieving our goal, but other people had other agendas.

Then there is a little Bearded Collie gone missing in Cornwall. I thought I’d go down and get him. Then I realised I was no longer in Cheshire, there was another 400 miles on top of what I remembered. Then the stupidity hit, I was in another place another time. Ruskin had gone, it was he who would have brought him back. I would have drove down, either gone wandering with him, become one with the night or if in deep country just opened the car door and let him cover the ground quicker on his own.


Monty looks a nice little dog, but I don’t think he as psychologically tough and astute as Ruskin. It takes one to know one. If he was out there Ruskin would have found him. He would have gone ” lost scared dog”. Instinct would have then just kicked in. Either Monty came quietly or he would have been herded back or dragged by the scruff of his neck to security. He was a working stock Beardie, that’s what they have done for hundreds or even thousands of years. Disappear on their own and bring ‘stuff’ back. We would have have to have seen the local farmers, the worst that could have happened was they end up with 40 sheep and 30 cows not in the same place they left them.

The Monty incident this week was the realisation I am no longer part of a team, connected to some greater world through another set of senses and thoughts.

A few days after I had cremated Ruskin I got it together to go for my first walk on my own. I got stopped by Blairgowrie police, Perthshire and took a kicking in a completely unprovoked attack. I didn’t defend myself at all, it was pointless. If they had been muggers I would have politely but firmly suggested they went home. If they did not do that and decided to persist I would have taken the appropriate action in response. As they were police I just took it. The rain was torrential, I just lay in the gutter with the blood running down my face while the police swore at me. I just didn’t think I deserved it.

Then I remembered I had the knife still in my pocket I had used to open the bags of charcoal and cut the flowers for Ruskin’s pyre. I was going for a walk. I’d always lived in and walked in the countryside. I was used to finding sheep or hedgehogs sometimes with baler twine or polythene wrapped round their legs. Cows that had slipped on got their legs stuck in a sheep fence. Either me or the dog could get caught on a bramble etc. Or I may want to take a cutting of a plant to identify when I got home. Whatever I do, I am an ecologist and it is from that perspective I work and think. There were an unknown number of reasons why I would have a knife all legal and legitimate.

When I got to the police station the police started having a go at me because I was born in England. Though my mothers family are Scottish I had a northern English accent. The police seemed to believe their attack on me was legitimate as it was a natural extension of traditional football violence between English and Scottish fans. I had never even been once ever to a football match, I never read the back pages of a newspaper, I have no interest in the game.  But the police attack on me was obviously racially motivated, I was born the wrong side of the border. The police were simply allowed to do it.

I was told under Scottish law I didn’t need to be interviewed as they had enough evidence, so I couldn’t see a solicitor. I was kept in solitary all weekend. As my clothes were wet from lying in the road they were taken off me and I was given a blanket to wrap round me. I was told they would allow me one phone call and they would contact someone on my behalf. I later found out they never did so no one knew where I was. It’s a good job Ruskin had already died.

When I arrived at prison on the Monday I was obvious I had it dealt out to me. I had head injuries and my wrists and hands were lacerated where the handcuffs had been put on so tight they had cut through the skin. All these little skinny smack heads and me over 6ft and nearly 16 stone, with a huge waterproof  jacket and hiking boots. Talk about sticking out like a sore thumb. Everyone was really nice and helpful unlike the hell hole of Perth police station. They told me I was too big for the police to arrest. They laughed showing me all the tiny people in their. They said the police were never going to risk arresting me for fear of getting hurt. The first thing would be to smack me down from behind without warning, then they would make a false cover story up. The night had been pouring down with rain, there was hardly anyone about. It gave the police a good excuse to get to the warmth of the main police station canteen by smacking me from behind and making some completely false story of me ‘resisting arrest’.

I was warned in prison by other inmates and officers of the danger waiting for me. Once the police had got me inside they would want to put me back there. Forewarned is forearmed. When I got out just walking to the local shop, if the police saw me the would turn around and kerb crawl behind me. When I went in the shop they would wait outside, then follow me again. It was nothing but intimidation, but as I knew what they were up to so I just ignored them. The justice system isn’t about law and order or protecting the community. It’s just about games and numbers, about power and bullying. 3 racist lying thugs would have got a pat on the back, for getting a result a statistic. If they had been members of the public they would have been locked up with the other (criminals?). But they were police officers so the law didn’t apply to them, they were allowed to do what they wanted knowing they would get away with it.

My trial was a joke a real fix. The prosecution said they would drop the charge of resisting arrest if I pleaded guilty of ‘possessing a knife’. All my paper work had this written on it. I was told there was no defence because i had admitted to the police I had a knife and it was me who gave it to the police. So there was no point in pleading not guilty to something I was automatically guilty of. If I went to trial then they would also prosecute me for attacking the police.

So like a bloody idiot I pleaded guilty. In court they only referred to first and second charge, a bit enigmatic. What a set up. I later found out there was no such offence as ‘possessing a knife’. What I had actually been charged with but not told, was another charge, which I would have had a defence to. But it was all the game. It is just statistics. They couldn’t have innocent members of the public going free without conviction having spent all that money. So they make up false charges and give you bullshit legal advice. Nothing but a con trick, it gets results and protects the police from the public really knowing how they operate.

In 2007 I contributed to 2 Nobel Prizes. The intention was to set up a world leading organisation on environmental management. I have a good reputation and many contacts within research either in climate change or sustainable development. I get phone calls and they are from other Nobel Prize winners commenting on my work. I know we have the technology to save millions of lives and species of animals from extinction.

But I have not even been out into town since the police attacked me. It’s not that I am scared. It was because I didn’t defend myself. But it didn’t matter the police made up the complete opposite story. So what happens now if I walk out in an evening and a police van full of racist thugs gets out for another go. Fool me once shame on you, fool me twice shame on me. If they attack me again, no more Mr Nice Guy. What have I got to lose. I may as well defend myself and give them some of there own medicine back. Oh they will take me down in the end, call for reinforcements, a riot van, gas, a taser or that little red dot, you see but don’t here the bang. But at least this time I will go down fighting. Like a Bearded Collie, true till death.

When I lay in that solitary police cell and later in the prison. Ruskin had only just died. Instead of mourning him, I was glad he was dead, somewhere else, where  this evil world couuldn’t hurt him. Pleased that my own dog was dead, where the scum who were treating me worse than I had ever treated any living creature couldn’t treat him the same.

Scotland is beautiful, the people are lovely, the landscape and the skies are spectacular beyond words. But if you are from south of the border, if you have an English accent, if your place of birth is below Carlise. And if you are bringing a dog here consider the risks very carefully. There are psychopathic lying sadists in those police cars. And they are protected by the Courts and Prosecution.

You must consider the risks. This can be a lawless place. You can be dragged out of your car or attacked in the street, kicked into the gutter. Taken to a police station. Locked up without access to a solicitor. Without anyone knowing where you are. I was lucky my dog was dead. One thing I could not imagine, would be not knowing where my dog was. When you are locked in your solitary cell, don’t even believe anything the police say, they just lie to keep you quiet. I have been there. Though this may seem like an isolated incident, I got this uncomfortable feeling this was just part of some accepted practice.

Do I want to live forever? No. Do I want to live any longer? No. I do not share the values of this world anymore. The politicians, the business leaders, the police, the courts. I have very liitle in common. All my life  was to the justice system was something they could use for there own ends just as a PR tool in fiddling crime figures. And they didn’t even care how many would die because of that. 

I want to die now and be forever again with my little friend. But I made a vow that I would use the rest of my life to carry on our work and help stop the suffering and cruelty that is being inflicted on this beautiful planet. So that is what I am going to do.

Will I ever get another dog. I don’t know. Perhaps the risk is too much. Love your dog as much as they love you. But remember there are some sick, sadistic psychopaths out there who don’t.




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  1. #1 by earwicga on June 15, 2009 - 10:01 pm

    Good to read this post – you have spirit and I hope it sustains you! Have you got another companion yet? It took me a long time to get another cat since my last one had it’s stomach ripped out by a badger – but one turned up in the end and he is just what I need of an evening.

  2. #2 by celticlion on June 16, 2009 - 10:02 am

    Thank you. I think I needed to write it for some therapy. No not yet. Like you I expect one will just turn up. At least I checked the video. The vid can’t be embedded any more so I put a link. I pleased you got another cat in the way you wanted. Thanks again for taking the time to read one of my self indulgent posts.

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