Dear Kingfisher,
I didn't mean to bother you a daily basis, but that seems to have been the case so far. I guess the advantage is that you don't have time to read and I need someone to talk to. Actually, I'd really like a hug too, but I know you don't do those.
I know other people have it worse, but I also know how I feel and I'm trying hard not to feel guilty or self-indulgent. It's not working. I feel bad for feeling weak and I feel worse for moaning to you about it. At least that means some of my human friends won't have to know what's going on and we can pretend to keep on keeping on, stiff upper lip and all that - appropriate perhaps on this 75th anniversary commemoration of the Victory in Europe Day. Such commemorations add to my despair. I cannot possibly say things like this out loud, but bunting and union flags are really not my thing. That the horrors of war should never be forgotten should go without saying, but an awful lot of people seem to have a different take on this from me and are driven to say quite a lot. I find the line between a meditative contemplation with a commitment to do better in the future and barmy triumphalism almost invisibly thin. Once again I know that such a dichotomy is my burden to sort. Maybe it's the tinnitus, but there are so many clanging bells about this commemoration ... and all the others. I read one article that somehow managed to call today's event "Victory Over Europe" Day! I don't know whether that was a wind-up or a deliberate lie, but it disgusts me. It was a war. By definition, everyone lost. I see nothing to celebrate, certainly not with union flags and bunting. I find all that quite horrifying. I find the exhortations to remember ... lest we forget, of course (no chance of that, mate) sits very uneasily. I also feel I am in a massive minority; possibly I am the only one who feels this way. I feel a massive pressure to join in the party. I don't want to. I don't even want to join in a virtual one, because those are the only parties I'll be attending for some time to come - and possibly not even any of those if someone finds this essay and determines I am a traitorous blackguard of the very worst kind.
At lunch time I turned on my internet radio. It's the best way to get any kind of radio reception where I am presently moored. The news was on and I knew what the content was going to be, so I turned to one of my favourite community radio stations, Future Radio broadcasting from Norwich. I don't know where else one might tune to hear accidentally "Dixie Chicken" by Little Feat playing at lunch time, but there it was. I sang along to the slide guitar solo in my best falsetto slide guitar voice and sang the chorus, or as much as I could remember. I bought the album decades ago, but I no longer have any means of playing my precious vinyl. That happened to be the last record in that show. The next programme started with Glenn Miller's "In The Mood". I had to switch it off because I knew what was coming and I felt sick again. I have a friend on a social media platform who seems to spend a lot of the day scouring the web to find odd little videos to send me in private messages. Some are funny and some are quite disturbing and some are simply politically not quite correct. I don't begrudge him this indulgence, how can it be any of my business? I am very proud to know him and to know that he is managing not to give into his alcohol addiction. I don't know if I could be so strong under these circumstances, but thankfully it has never been something I have had to face personally. He's stayed dry for a few months now. One of today's amusing little videos came with a message: "Pass this on to everyone. It would mean a lot." With trepidation I clicked on the "play" triangle and the black screen faded to an aerial view of the sea. Land came into view. Then cliffs, white ones. Cue Vera Lynn soundtrack. I didn't manage to stop the film before the drone swept over the coast and closed in on a military character standing on the edge of the white cliffs wearing what looked like WW1 uniform - don't ask why. I have no idea why whatever was in the video was important enough to presume on my acquaintance that I would be prepared to acquiesce to his request to pass it on. I have no idea why it would "mean a lot". I perceive such encouragement as being very close to bullying. If I dare dissemble from the prevailing narrative I am somehow betraying the legacy of those who "gave their lives" in a terrible conflict. Again, I cannot see it that way. Most of the men who fought in the two world wars may have "given" their lives from the perspective of grieving families. They undoubtedly signed up for a cause they honestly felt was just. But then, just as now, propaganda was rife. How is it possible to know who is telling the truth? So, in another sense, their lives were also "taken". I'm certainly not going to deny that very many of these soldiers whose lives were taken showed immense courage in the face of paralysing fear. Indeed they were the stout-hearted lions who were badly let down by the donkeys who couldn't work out any other means of resolving conflict and who never left these shores. Neither can I deny that many acts of bravery were carried out in pursuit of their work. However, I also suspect that those who fought against what must have been overwhelming pressure to enlist showed great courage too. Courage like that needed to be even more resilient, because accusations of cowardice last forever. I think it takes courage for families and individuals to endure shame for taking action consistent with a principle in a moral cause. I feel the same discomfort over the annual pressure to buy and wear poppies. I've been aware of this antipathy for well over fifty years. I met up with an old school friend for the first time since our school days a few years ago and he had remembered how rabidly anti-war I had been at the time. Now, of course, I realise that life is far more complicated and even professional members of the military can be anti-war. We go about expressing our principles in different ways perhaps. However, I have never had to take part in any kind of military action and for that I am very grateful. I was born ten years, a week and a day after Victory in Europe was declared. I never had to come to terms with the aftermath of the country of my birth having been invaded. Having a French partner I see the evidence everywhere when I'm there. It's in the street names in every town. I have a Dutch friend who remembers a line across the school playground. His friends never crossed that line. On one side of it were the children of the families of collaborators and on the other the children of families associated with the resistance during the war. How does one ever come to terms with something like that? For me the waving of national flags, the display of the bunting serves more to perpetuate what divides us than what we have achieved since then.
Sorry, that wasn't what I wanted to mention. My concerns seem so petty now. I'll come back to them perhaps.
I've put it off all week, but I was forced to go out and buy some food today. I know I have the click and collection on Monday, but I have been without fresh fruit and vegetables for a few days and that is upsetting. Everything's upsetting at the moment. I am near to tears all the time. I should be strong. I could be maintaining vigilance because I know I don't trust the government not to take full advantage of the diversion this pandemic is providing. I should be writing letters to my MP, but I can't see the point. Despite having written a number of letters to him over the years I have can count the replies I have had on the fingers of two fingers - that's not counting the automatic "out of office, will get back to you soon" or the soothing nonsense of an unpaid lacky. The MP for my previous place of residence usually took months to reply, but he eventually got round round to it, not that his replies were ever useful in the terms that we might find ourselves in some sort of accord. Anyway, I'll go and cook something to eat.
Did you see the swan family this afternoon? Eight cygnets, probably no more than a week or so old. No doubt they'll be back. I shall probably try and get a photograph. They were in a hurry to get somewhere. They don't function on your scale of speed though. I wonder if they even register on your vision?
I'm supposed to be singing something in a virtual folk club tonight. I can't bring myself to practise anything. Once again I shan't be able to go in. I'm going to have to force myself sometime. Just not tonight.
Goodnight dear Kingfisher.
marsh
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