I love...

X's and anniversaries

On Thursday I got to put one of those X's on a ballot paper here
 

Call me old fashioned but every time I get the chance to declare my preference in political representation I think about the people who paid the highest price for my right to do that. This time, with another anniversary of the Normandy landings in the news, I felt a bit sad that the choices being offered to me were so tawdry (topping the list was a party that bans non 'indigenous Brits' from even being a member). I voted Labour as a tactical anti-BNP step, thinking about how National Socialism turned into Nazism.  I love being able to vote. And I love these men for guaranteeing my right to do it.

I had the accidental privilege of mixing among some D-Day veterans, on holiday in Normandy 15 years ago when the 50th anniversary celebrations happened to be in full swing. One of those happy coincidences. I recall one group in particular. They were all pissed and laughing like drains. There was a beautiful glamorous French woman who must have been knocking up 70, serving them drinks outside the bar. She turned out to be a bit of a legend who lived there as a girl and remembers being liberated by the Allies. All of them were acting like flirtateous boozed up teenagers. She was loving it and they were knocking back the beers and laughing uproariously under a gloriously blue sky. I still smile when I think of them.

Pictures taken without permission from the BBC here.

Voicemail as entertainment

Wednesday November 5 and my phone rings while I'm driving. It says Frog on the screen. I'll call him back when I get home. Then the voicemail alert goes off and I know I'm in for a treat.

We met at primary school in 1967, aged 5. That's a lot of shared history. He's a professor now, with a string of research papers with unpronounceable titles behind him, while I'm a Communications Manager in B2B wheeled asset risk management information. Those facts are amusing, when I think about it. Because we shared childhood and adolescence. We agonised over girls, loved Barclay James Harvest (his favourites) and Rush (my favourites), swapped spot eradication methods, intelligently tested school rule boundaries, taught his 8 year old neighbour to say 'cunt', built brilliant paper planes, wore ridiculous clothes we thought we looked cool in and built an enduring connection. Now into middle age, despite geographical separation and months between communication, there are still times when, for each of us, only the other one will really get where we're coming from.

And so it is that I know he'll have been listening to the PM programme on Radio 4. And that he'll have left me an hilariously ironic and accutely observed commentary on some aspect of current affairs...in his trademark deadpan tone. And as I listen, the smile that spreads across my face almost hurts. 

"I was absolutely certain you'd want to share the good news, although I'm sure you picked it up as well, that Barack Obama being elected as president of the United States means that anyone can be anything they want to be. Which is fantastic because I have just put in a call to Rafael Benítez at Liverpool saying despite my age and the fact that I haven't actually played football for 20 years I now want to play football for Liverpool football club. And given that Barack Obama is president of the United States that will now be possible. So, obviously it will take me a few weeks to get into condition, that kind of thing, but because I want it so badly that's what's going to happen. So hopefully if I get a bit of training in I should be playing the European cup final in May. Anyway, hope all's right with you - at least the world's a better place toay than it was yesterday, I'm sure you'll agree with that."

His closing invitation to visit is irresistible.

Frog. About a year ago.