I didn't get to observe the silence at 11 o'clock because of damn bloody clients. I think I will wander up to the attic and have a moment on my own before I go to bed.
When I was fifteen or sixteen, I got horribly upset by the war poetry we studied at school. (I was going to say overwrought, but I'm not sure you can be over-anything about war. I was pretty damn wrought, though.) I think I was just getting my head round some of the abominable shit that people really will do. Also, Siegfried Sassoon appealed to my teenage self in his totally unsubtle, blistering rage (with extra cool points for being queer). I didn't really get Owen so much until later.
We had a family holiday in the north of France around that time, and I bawled and snottered my way around the war cemeteries. I was a real joy to be around when I was fifteen, did I mention?
Meh. I know I have more to say, but it ain't coming. What do you say about something like this? I've never been within sniffing distance of a war, and I pray I never will. I haven't got the balls to pretend I know what I'm talking about here.
1 comment:
Where the hell have you been? Anyways, have an awesomely excellent Christmas with extra trimmings, in whatever way you choose to celebrate it.
x
notkeith
Ooh, word verification: brabils. What you get when you order lots of bras.
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