3:12 p.m. - Friday, Jun. 04, 2004
D-day in two ways

In a week which, by all accounts, has been a pretty trying one for me, one thing has reduced me to tears more often than any other. And that’s the sacrifices made by normal men, almost sixty years ago, on D-day.

I have stood in tears on the pavement, between the sandwich shop and our favourite quirky boutique, as ranks of modern sailors have marched past. I have bowed my head in silence outside the cathedral, and I have wept into my knitting as veterans recount their experiences. I am a pacifist, but it is these people who have given me the right to be a pacifist. Who have allowed me to live in a house where what matters more is our shared loves and sense of humour than the three shades of our skins. Who risked it all, willingly, because it was the right thing to do.

I owe so much to each one of them. I owe as much to those who are preparing for the commemorations of the weekend amongst the familiar faces of the comerades of old, to those who never saw their twentieth birthdays, to those who never met their children.

What matters is the risk. These people offered their lives. Some were taken, and others spared. But they did it for us, for our country, for our futures and for our freedom. They, and so many like them, freed our continent from the oppression of Hitler. And for that I can never thank them enough.

Thankyou for the lovely guestbook messages. I am feeling a little better today. By my estimation, Robert is somewhere over central Europe at the moment. I hope he is having a nice time. I wonder if he is getting lunch?

I have a new knitting project. It’s a very sad project, but it’s very satisfying to knit for a cause that needs my skills and talent. I am working for cuddles, a charity which distributes tiny blankets, robes and wraps to hospitals so families that lose their babies to stillbirth have a source of clothes that fit their little one, for photographs and cuddles and burial. In a way it is heartbreaking to knit these tiny garments that look so sweet, and to know their little occupant will never get a chance to grow up. At the same time, however, it is really valuable work as there is no commercial source of clothes for these babies, and it is nice to think it little piece of my work might provide a little bit of comfort for somebody undergoing such a traumatic time. There are lots of prayers and hugs knitted into the little hooded wrap I am working on at the moment.

Hmp. My housemate Angel just came in to ask if she could have a mouse to show her friend. She does this a lot. My mice are not here solely to be pimped about to show off how cute they are. Especially when people make ‘Urgghh’ noises when they wee and poo. That’s what mice do! It also distresses them a bit to be removed from their cage (they are not the sort of pets who leap at the chance of freedom). And I am in my pyjamas still, and smelling kind of pungent (no, I don’t care that it’s past 3pm). Also, I know Angel wants them later to photograph and film them as they are going home to my parents with me tomorrow, and, unlike me, they’re not coming back. So I am annoyed! Particularly when, if I ask A why she doesn’t get some of her own, she says ‘they’re fun to play with, but I don’t think I could be arsed to look after them all the time.’ My little ones are not just there for your fun! They are autonomous beings and I do not wish to drag them about like some sort of freak show or performing seals.

It appears I am in a ranty mood today.

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