this ain’t no revolution

Like many women across the UK who heard the news this morning, that gender equality in this sinking land still has a long way to go, I was shouting and laughing at my radio.

‘Yes, yes! I told you, I told you! We’ve known that for years. Thank you.’

My lonely bellowing was gradually replaced by astonished anger when the newsreader told us that the Equal Opportunities Commission’s research shows that it will be another 45 years before women receive pensions equal to those of their male peers. And I was practically speechless to learn that ‘it will take up to 200 years to achieve an equal number of men and women in the Westminster Parliament’ (currently less than 20% of MPs are female). And if you are a woman from an ethnic minority, it will be your grand-daughters’ grand-daughters’ grand-daughters’ grand-daughters’ grand-daughters who might stand a chance. And we’re supposed to be grateful that increasing numbers of awfully nice men are prepared to share the housework and childcare with their bossy female partners.

The other day, I was reading William Dalrymple’s guide to writing a decent travel book. I blush to admit this to the whole world, but there we are. It’s true, I was. For some time I’ve been flabbergasted by the number of highly successful travel writers who are not only male but also former students of Oxbridge, often very wealthy members of the aristocracy and in several cases, ex-Etonians. (My lovely neighbour says I should get over this, as do many many others: just finish your own book Lara and stop moaning. They have a point.) Anyway, I trudged through Dalrymple’s handy digest until I arrived at his list of great travel books:

John Berendt – Midnight in the Garden of Good and Evil

Robert Byron – The Road to Oxiana

Bruce Chatwin – In Patagonia and The Songlines

Jason Elliot – An Unexpected Light

Amitav Ghosh – In an Antique Land

Patrick Leigh Fermor – A Time of Gifts

Norman Lewis – Naples ‘44

Philip Marsden-Smedley – The Bronski House

Jan Morris – Venice

Eric Newby – A Short Walk in the Hindu Kush

Redmond O’Hanlon – Into the Heart of Borneo

Colin Thubron – Behind the Wall

As you will see, they are all written by men. Apart from one. Venice by Jan Morris. Delighted to find one lone female, and determined to read her book, this morning, I Googled Jan Morris to find out a little bit more about her. And, oh, what disappointment. Oh, Jan, dear Jan, I admire you for your courage, but dear Jan, you too, were once a man.