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What goes up must come down
Cleared out the loft. The box of 78s that I found and thought might be valuable turned out to be worthless; the records were so warped that they were like frisbees.
In another box, a small rusty metal chest, I found old coins, probably worthless too, and the remains of a WW2 parachute flare. That might be of interest to a museum.
Removed stuff from the top of a wardrobe yesterday and dumped most of it in my brother's house today. It was all covered in a thick layer of dust. (Why is dust grey?) There were documents, photos, cake tins, a suitcase and a long thin item wrapped in a sheet of plastic that could have been a hockey stick but which turned out to be a sword. It was the dress sword belonging to my father's brother when he was a midshipman in the Royal Navy. He became a submariner and died with all the crew when his boat was depth-charged off the coast of Tunisia in 1943. What a waste of life. Mind you, when families can't live in harmony, and communities can't, it's hardly surprising that countries cannot either.
Thought for today
I have never understood the liking for war. It panders to instincts already catered for within the scope of any respectable domestic establishment.
Alan Bennett (1934 - ) Forty Years On, 1969
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To date 1 Comment(s)
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Katja
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(9.7.06 21:26)
Why is dust grey? Good question... I suppose it's something to do with it being an amalgam of so many things, so it's a kind of sludge of colours. I want to come up with something more interesting than that though!
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