“Few will have the greatness to bend history itself; but each of us can work to change a small portion of events, and in the total; of all those acts will be written the history of this generation.”
Robert F Kennedy (1925-1968)
''Travelling north from Sydney I noticed a sign which said 'The Entrance Exit', writes Robert Felton, of somewhere on the road. ''What a nice little oxymoron. What next? 'Orange Peel Off', or perhaps the 'Ipswich Turn Off'?''
Yesterday's item about the ''The Entrance Exit'' highway sign reminded Peter Chrystie of Melbourne about the sign on the outskirts of the small town of Speed, in western Victoria, which reads ''Speed - Slow Down'', and Margaret Richards, of Mount Riverview, of the ''Young Senior Citizens Centre'', in, of course, Young. In a similar vein, Andrew Lishmund, of Castle Hill, has ''been trying to organise a trip through the Loire valley from Tours in France. Google can't seem to handle 'tours from Tours'. It's much simpler to search for 'day trips'.''
Apropos of our item yesterday on the Young Senior Citizens Centre, Nick Flowers, of Chichester, England, informs us: ''In the village of Loose, near Maidstone, Kent, there is a sign proclaiming the Loose Women's Institute.'' Jennifer Dinneen raises the tone, slightly: ''I have a friend who lives in Fertile, Minnesota, who has six children, who was a member of the Fertile Women's Softball Association.''
"I was appalled at what they were doing. I was appalled at what I was doing. But then people started talking about those pictures... then I felt that maybe my actions hadn't been at all bad. Being a witness to something this horrible wasn't necessarily such a bad thing to do."
"Not Waving But Drowning" is a poem about unheard cries for help. The speaker feels that her attempts to call attention to her unhappiness are overlooked as mere "larking." All her life, she was "much farther out" than her friends thought, "And not waving but drowning." The speaker wanted help, but her efforts were disregarded as jokes. The old man for whom it was too cold and "his heart gave way" probably died from loneliness. The speaker's statement that "it was too cold always" show that she feels chronic despair.
I have a documentary about Spike Milligan where he recounts an amazing experience he had when touring Africa and tracing his Grandfather's steps (Grandad was a British soldier who fought against the Zulu's during the Zulu uprising in the 1880's). It seems that Spike and his wife were staying at a very up market hotel (can't remember where, would have to watch the documentary again) and when asked by the Head Waiter why he was in Africa, he recounted the story of his Grandfather's involvement in one particular battle over there. The Head Waiter disappeared for a few moments and returned with one of the kitchen hands - a Zulu who's own grandfather had apparently been in the same battle! The Milligan's left early the next morning, and as they were driven through the gates of the hotel, there on a small hill by the entrance was the kitchen Hand, in full Zulu Battle Dress, chanting a Zulu war song in honour of one great soldier's grandson to another.
A lovely story, and it must have been so moving for Spike. One of life's magical moments.