Heard on the radio this morning that parliament,
more specifically the House of Commons (similar to our House of
Representatives), would be debating the Marriage Bill this afternoon – to redefine
centuries-old law broadening the term of ‘marriage’ to include those of same
sex partnerships, termed in past decades as ‘the love that dare not speak its
name’ (civil unions became law back in 2005). Our ultimate hold-up in changing
out rooms inevitably turns out to be having clean – and ironed – bedding ready
and available each day. After working on the preparation of several rooms, I
retired to one of the rooms in the hotel to do some old-fashioned pillowslip
ironing. As I was figuring out how to work the television (they have also gone digital
over here, so you’ve got to wrestle with a couple different remotes to make
your viewing happen), it suddenly dawned on me how perfect this was – that now
I would be able to watch due process in action.
Argument for passing the bill was pretty much one-sided
– emotionally-based – to ‘get rid of a challenging prejudice,’ while proponents
against seemed to have a lot more legal and societal issues to raise. Interesting
that one of the arguments against the bill was the fear tactic that if this
change was allowed to take place a concession to polygamy would be next.
Another issue was whether or not religious bodies who were vehemently opposed to
the measure would be forced to perform such marriages, also if allowing same
sex marriage would have a dilatory effect on traditional marriage. Must admit, it
is true, without a spiritual framework it is hard to see a reason why NOT to
allow anyone to form a permanent, loving relationship who wishes to.
One of the BBC stations, BBC Parliament, broadcasts
whenever Parliament is in session. As I watched, it became readily apparent
that proper rules of debate are followed precisely. After hours and hours of
arguments, the Speaker of the House called for verbalization of ‘nays’ and the ‘yeahs.’
As, of course, you heard some of both, he immediately smacked down his gavel,
and cried out, ‘division!’ whereupon the ministers rose and began moseying to
one end or the other of the hall – to cast their vote formally. (You saw them
going, but couldn’t see actually where they went OR what they did there.)
Clearly views, with time, have changed – it was
evident from the many seemingly staid persons who espoused the bill's passage. I had
gathered from what the radio said that this would be it – that an outcome would
be determined, this very day. In fact, that was what many of the MPs kept
saying – ‘let’s make a move for this historical legislation now – today! It’s
time has come! Let’s make everyone proud of this present parliament.’ In the
end the vote was approximately 400 to 180 – the yeahs had it! But it didn’t
mean it would now become law – what it meant was that the bill was considered viable,
would now go to committee for several days of revisions before being passed
along to the House of Lords.
All in all things are SO much more liberal here in
this country. What my eyes see and what my ears hear is a far cry from my
sheltered existence back in Provo. (I
mentioned already about what you easily can come across in the most tabloid of regular,
old daily newspapers.) I encounter seriously bad language practically
everywhere – whether walking past it on the street, or even in my very own
kitchen. I was out shopping today and the words to the songs being piped into about
the nicest department store in town (Debenhams) were singeing my ears. I looked
around, wanting to ask some other middle-aged person – ‘doesn’t that music
offend you?!’ Couldn’t tell that anyone else but me even seemed to notice. I fear that the ramifications of this cultural revolution are creeping closer and closer to the tides now breaking upon our own shorelines.
Photos_
1- onsie, as they call them here, seen in a store window this afternoon
– yeah, the stars and the stripes - may they ever wave!
2- (alternately, Tom sporting a nice onsie Santa brought him for Christmas)
2- (alternately, Tom sporting a nice onsie Santa brought him for Christmas)
