Supplies

No run today, as I decided to let my body recover from the shock of yesterday's mishap. Longish day at the office, and then back home to prepare for the BBC * meeting I was hosting. Six of the other seven members of the group attended.

It never ceases to amaze me that there is such enthusiasm for stories about World War II. Great heroism for sure. But the suffering of the ordinary soldier, and civilians, is glossed over. It may be (indeed it seems probable) that there was no moral alternative. But I find the glorification of war distressing. One of the group responded to my question as to why there is such fascination with events of 70 years ago, by saying that our generation has no stories, and the preceding one did.

My father's war story became known to me in its entirety not long before he died. I had always known that he refused to fire a rifle, and therefore joined the ambulance corps. I also knew that he had been badly injured in a truck crash during training in Fiji, and was repatriated to New Zealand after recovering. The final part of the story was that almost every member of his ambulance section was killed in North Africa trying to save the lives of injured soldiers. There is no glamour and no story for those dead men or their families.

There are many different stories; all stories which are valid. Which explore different aspects of human experience than the role of the hero.

Before my book club mates arrived I got a photo of the supplies which were got in for the evening. While most of the food was eaten, most of the wine remains.

And now to bed.

* BBC = Blokes Book Club

NOTE: Although I considered it, I chose against taking a photograph of the Blokes, or one or more of them, with one or more books. Nevertheless, this blip IS about reading books, so perhaps it is a legitimate response to Booky Goatherd's Project