Tuesday, 24 November 2009

Dear me





For the last 2 days I have been engaged in on of those tasks that I truly hope is a once in a lifetime experience - sorting through my dad's home and deciding what to keep and what can go.

Having never done anything like this before I am unsure of the protocols. Dad was only buried last week. Is there a decent interval of time to be observed before I begin to file his life away into boxes and consign his many shirts to the charity shops? Or is it best just to get on with it?

Of course, there is no answer. Each person can only do what is right for them. But it's not just about time, it's also about state of mind. What might appear to be a pile of junk must have meant something to someone once and be there for a reason.

I'm glad to say that my dad was a very ordinary man and no shocking secrets have emerged as I have gone through his possessions. Although it is disturbing to find the Christmas gift of a couple of years ago still in its wrapper.

Going through the worldly goods of someone who has been around for your entire existence means not only finding bits of their life but bits of your own too.

One piece of memorabilia (junk) I am not sure what to do with is a huge picture of me when I was 20 and on holiday in Crete. I recall that my mum had taken my holiday snaps to be developed and wanted some copies made. She went back the next week and was handed a large cardboard tube.

'I ordered post card sized prints,' said Mum. ' What's this?'

'Post card?' said the assistant. 'Oh, we thought you said poster.'

Reasoning that the huge prints were no good to the shop, mum paid the post card price and carried me home.

Thus it was that a very slim, fit, tanned and almost life sized looking version of me came to adorn my parents home for many years to come. Luckily, my dad had the good sense to consign the picture to the spare room. I know it's vanity, but I just couldn't bear to take me to the tip.

Another curiosity was I letter I found. It was written by me to my parents during my first week away from home as a student. 18 year old me was a very serious chap who gives reassuring information about sticking to halves when going out to pubs with the older students. It also conveys interesting details about needing to buy another track suit as the college are very particular about the colours worn by PE students. There didn't appear to be much work done during that first week.

The letter made me think of a book that came out recently called: 'Dear Me: A letter to my 16 year old self', which is a compendium of letters from famous folk to their young selves. A brilliant idea and probably something we should all do.

If I could give just three pieces of advice to the 18 year who wrote that letter back in September 1976 they would be:

Don't worry so much. 98% of the things you worry about in the years to come are never going to happen. And of the rest you will sort out half of them and the others just couldn't be avoided anyway.

If you realise you have you have made a big mistake then pride is never a good reason for not changing your mind and putting it right. Today's dented pride is tomorrow's battle scar, but regret is a wound that never heals.

Don't waste your time fighting those curls. Enjoy them while you can, they won't be there forever.

Live long and prosper.

Friday, 20 November 2009

Fish and Lights

Plane view of the Aurora Borealis

When my mother died over 13 years ago she was laid to rest in a beautiful churchyard in the village where she was born and brought up. The village is called Stogursey and is situated in Somerset, about 10 miles from Bridgewater.

My father paid for a double plot, so when he died recently I knew that my final service to him would be to ensure that he was taken to Somerset to be buried with my mum. Thanks to the efforts of the same undertakers who dealt with my mum's funeral my dad was finally laid to rest this week. The undertakers concerned are a family business run by father, Geoff, and daughter, Sarah, and I am eternally grateful to them for their care and support at this difficult time.

Thank you also to the friends who read this blog and have kindly taken the time to send messages of condolence. They were much appreciated.

As mentioned in my last blog, I had planned to be touring Vietnam right now and not being there presents a few difficulties with achieving the list of targets for my gap year.

One item on the list is not Vietnam related and is difficult to achieve. That is 'See the Northern Lights'. Given the gap in my itinerary I have been looking into trips to Norway or Iceland to tick this one off the list. But even for a few days the trips are expensive, generally around £1400 for 4 days. That is more than I paid for the 2 week overland trip through Vietnam.

There is a way to visit Lapland by way of a day trip for around £400 though. But this involves joining one of the 'See Santa' trips that are obviously aimed at young children. I just can't bring myself to sit on Santa's knee and tell him that all I want for Christmas is to see the Northern Lights. And if I turn up on the Winter Wonderland tour with Wainwright tucked under my arm then I am almost certain to be arrested under the Mental Health Act or even as a potential kiddie fiddler. Not good.

So I have taken a gamble and gone for the cheapest option available. On March 16th I will travel to Doncaster airport to receive a short lecture on astronomy and the Northern Lights from a couple of experts. We will then fly due north towards the Arctic Circle and look out of the window in eager anticipation of seeing said lights.

The picture above is one taken from one of the flights. As you can see, it is not as good as lying in the snow and watching the lights overhead. The picture was taken with a 10 second exposure, so I will have to brush up on using my Canon 50D if I want to get any similar shots. Not easy I imagine from the seat of a plane.

The trips reckon on an 80% success rate at seeing the lights so it could yet be a failed task.

Another task on my list is 'Catch a big fish'. I am a big fan of Robson Green's Extreme Fishing, so that was the inspiration for this goal. I had hoped that I might achieve this in my final week in Vietnam when I had booked myself a quiet hut on a beach on an island called Phu Quoc.

I am turning my attention instead to the coast of East Yorkshire. I do own a beach casting rod and reel, although it has been about 30 years since I fished off the coast.

I have set aside next week to put my father's estate in order, but after that I am awarding myself a week of 'me' time. My plan is to include a visit to the coast and catch a mighty denizen of the deep.

If past experience is anything to go by then I won't catch a thing except a cold. But I will not be deterred and will persevere in my quest all winter if need be.

If all else fails I will swallow a full packet of sea sickness tablets (you know how weak my stomach is) and set sail for the depths of the North Sea in search of my leviathan. I know you're out there Moby Dick. Beware! The middle aged gapper is coming to get you.


Live long and prosper.

Monday, 16 November 2009

November

Halong Bay

According to my diary I should be in Halong Bay today, drifting around on a Vietnamese junk. Of course, owing to the death of my father, I'm not. I'm at home enduring my least favourite month of the year, November. Can anyone tell me anything good about this month? For me it a time of long, dark nights and perpetual wind and rain. Uggh! The only good things I can find about it are the grass doesn't need cutting and warm and cosy nights in by the fire become very appealing.

Not visiting Vietnam as planned not only dashes my long established desire to flee the English autumn for a warmer climate, it also makes achieving the challenges I set for myself a while back very difficult.

There are 20 challenges in all and I drew them up at the beginning of my gap year as a way of bringing structure to what I wanted to do with my time. I'm not going to list all 20 here, but I will review some of them.

6 of the 20 have already been achieved. They included taking a Turkish bath, coming face to face with mountain gorillas and going white water rafting. So far, so good. Others have a definite antipodean feel to them and I hope to tick them off in January and February. For example: Climb Sydney Harbour Bridge; see the sun rise over Uluru; and take an epic train journey.

Many of them appear to be in jeopardy now that I have cancelled my trip to Hong Kong and Vietnam. Visiting 10 countries I have not visited before should have been easy but now I will be 2 short of the target. And what about 'Fire a machine gun'? I put that in there because a good friend assured me that there are lots of munitions in Vietnam and that blasting away with an M16 would be a great experience and easy to achieve. Not so easy to achieve in East Yorkshire though.

Another of my challenges was optimistic to say the least. This is the one that reads: 'See the Northern Lights.' It sounds easy but if I want to do it I need to get something sorted in the next two months. I think I can hear Iceland calling.

I said that I have ticked off 6 challenges as being achieved, but at a push I could claim 7.

The dubious challenge is the one entitled: 'Appear on TV.' Now, when I set that challenge what I had in mind was either an appearance in something as a TV extra or on a quiz show, such as The Weakest Link.

Neither of those look like happening but I may be able to claim it on a technicality.

Just over a week a ago it was Remembrance Sunday. Some months ago, after a visit to the Lakes, I commented on here that if people could trek up Great Gable for a Remembrance service then the least I can do is walk down the road to my local cenotaph. This I duly did, along with my eldest son and we marked our 2 minutes of silence at 11 O'clock. The point here is that I take remembering the sacrifices of others very seriously.

I then dashed off to watch Hull City play Stoke. Once the players were on the field there was another 2 minutes of silence. Naturally, I stood in due solemnity once more. What happened next is a disgrace in every way.

There must have been some problem with the PA system as it began to make an awful racket, completely at odds with occasion. This annoyed me. The match was televised on Sky and unbeknown to me the camera zoomed in on me stood there looking somewhat bemused by the noise but wearing my poppy with pride. Unfortunately, this was the precise moment when I expressed my dismay at the harsh sound coming from the speakers around the ground and in all the glory of high definition I was televised during the 2 minutes of silence mouthing words to the effect of 'For flip sake!', or maybe something a bit stronger.

Oh, the shame.

Live long and prosper.

Saturday, 7 November 2009

Quick hello

Hello. I know that a few people are kind enough to follow my ramblings on here so I want to give a brief update now that the Vietnam trip has been cancelled.

Sadly, my father died on November 5th after a short illness. It all happened very fast but I am thankful for the fact that my eldest son and my daughter made it home in time say goodbye.

As anyone who has been through this knows, it is a difficult time and there is a lot to do.

I hope to be back blogging in the next few days.

Live long and prosper.

Wednesday, 4 November 2009

Taking Stock

Incredibly, it's been 4 months since I left work. That's a third of a gap year. It seems like a good point to take stock of what has been happening.

I took time out to refresh like I had planned and now my day has more structure to it. I have yet to feel bored. Indeed, the list of things waiting to be done seems as long as ever. I still haven't cleared out the garage or tackled the painting jobs I have been meaning to do.

To date the travel has worked out brilliantly. Everywhere I have gone has been special and has meant something different. The best part has been the good friends I have met along the way.

It isn't just new friends that have made this part of my life special, it's the old ones too.

As I have commented before, time is different now. For example when I walk my dog in the morning there is no urgency to get home to go to work. This allows me time to have nice conversations with other dog walkers and realise that there are good people all around.

I am also grateful to my former friends and work colleagues who go out of their way to keep me 'in the loop' and to stay in touch through emails or invitations for drinks and meals. It's ironic that I've never really liked work Christmas do's but I'm really looking forward to them this year!

On the negative side, the Extras work that so filled me with enthusiasm has not come to anything. I am beginning to doubt it ever will. There was a phone call in August but I was out with my daughter and missed it. Had I answered it I would have got a walk-on part on Emmerdale Farm. What alarmed me was the text I got afterwards telling me how I had missed out on a valuable opportunity because I didn't answer my phone. I found the text insulting and it brought home a very valid point. That in the world of Extras work I am nothing and my agent is God, or thinks he is. If that's how it works then I don't want any part of it.

What I really like about my life since leaving work is getting up the morning and being my own boss. It's great not to have to pander to the egos of others, dance around office politics or be constantly reminded of the hierarchy and where I fit into it. I can't put a value on that, but it's certainly worth more than 5 seconds as man in pub on Emmerdale.

I apologise for ending this on a low note but I have cancelled my trip to Hong Kong and Vietnam. I was due to fly to Asia next week.

My elderly father was admitted to hospital 2 weeks ago. He is not responding to treatment. I had a long discussion with the Registrar yesterday and although there are no certainties the prognosis is not good. It would be pure folly for me to embark on a journey that was scheduled to last almost a month at this time.

So, sorry, I won't be posting news of my Vietnam Adventure on here in the near future.


Live long and prosper.

Sunday, 1 November 2009

The Third Reich

Hitler Salutes the memorial to the martyrs of the Beer Hall Putsch

Arbeit Macht Frei

Sonja at the Dachau Memorial



The Munich Hofbrauhaus reminded me of my school dining hall. Rows and rows of wooden tables and benches, each big enough to accommodate 8 to 10 people. On entering the place there were no empty tables so Chris and I spotted a couple of vacant seats at the end of a bench and politely asked those already sat there if we might join them.

The chap opposite was on his own and eventually he introduced himself as Martin, a travelling salesman from Manchester whose work took him all over the world.

We chatted for a while about the usual topics - what we were doing in Munich and football. Then Martin introduced a topic I had not been expecting.

'This is where it all began' he said. 'Hitler and his cronies planned the Third Reich in this place. They drank beer at these very tables.'

Up to this point I had not given much thought to the rise of Nazism and I was totally unaware of the pivotal role that the City of Munich had played in the rise of the Third Reich.

Over the course of the weekend I realised that it was impossible to ignore the events that had taken place in Munich as my feeble knowledge of history was improved by the tour guide Sonja on the free walking tour of the city and later during our visit to the former concentration camp at Dachau.

A series of political rallies and meetings in the beer halls of Munich in 1920 led to the creation of the German Workers Party, later changed by Hitler to the National Socialist German Workers Party (Nationalsozialistische Deutsche Arbeiterpartei or NSDAP), or Nazi for short. In April 1921 in Munich Hitler became the leader (Führer) of the Nazi Party.

April 1921 was also the time when the victorious nations of World War One, notably England and France, presented Germany with the bill for war reparations as agreed under The Treaty of Versailles in 1919. The cost was assessed as $33.5 billion.

The German government responded by printing more money and consequently created an unprecedented level of hyper-inflation. Before the war reparations were announced 1 US Dollar was the equivalent of 4 German Marks. By November 1923 it took an astonishing 4,000,000,000 marks to buy 1 dollar.

Hitler's first grab for power came on the evening of November 8th and the morning of November 9th, 1923 in Munich. A mesmeric speaker he brought hope and a promise of change to a country in chaos. Of course, he did not openly disclose his true intentions and manifesto.

Growing support gave him the confidence to kidnap leaders of the Bavarian government in what became known as The Beer Hall Putsch. His plan was to get these leaders to support him and become part of his new government. Threatened at gunpoint, the three kidnapped leaders feigned support for Hitler and he made the fatal error of leaving them whilst he organised his storm troopers elsewhere in Munich. The three leaders managed to slip away and next day Hitler, Göring, Himmler and a World War I military hero called Ludendorf marched with 3,000 Nazis on the centre of Munich.

The march eventually reached a police blockade and shots rang out. 16 Nazis and 3 police officers were killed (the original spin-doctor, Goebbels, later re-wrote history to say that the 3 police officers were martyrs who had died whilst trying to flee the police lines to join the Nazis). Hitler's body guard saved his life by shielding him with his body and taking 14 bullets (he lived). Hitler withdrew from the melee and ran away.

Thus ended Hitler's first attempt at seizing power. It would be 10 years before he finally achieved his ambition.

On the walking tour Sonja showed us where the fighting had taken place, near the Odeonplatz. When the Nazis came to power they erected a plaque to the 19 (including the 3 police officers) martyrs of the failed take over. Everyone who passed had to give a Nazi salute. Naturally, people sought to avoid the place and a nearby street now has golden paving to commemorate the fact that people would duck down it to avoid the Nazi memorial.

When the Nazis eventually came to power they secured only 37% of the vote. Hitler became the German Chancellor on 30th January 1933. Just 27 days later he had the excuse he needed to launch his dictatorship.

On February 27th the Reichstag Building in Berlin was the subject of an arson attack. To this day it is not clear exactly what happened but the communists were blamed. In response Hitler immediately had legislation passed that took away all civil liberties.

Hitler's storm troopers began to round up the communists. The dissidents had to be housed somewhere. In March 1933 Dachau, the concentration camp on the outskirts of Munich opened its gates for the first time.

By coincidence, luck or serendipity it was Sonja, our guide from the free tour, who was in Marienplatz on our last day in Munich to take us on the tour of Dachau.

In her early 30's, this blonde, attractive and intelligent student from Florida once more passed on her historical knowledge with a passion. Not surprising, given that her father was born in Germany in 1942 and sees himself as American, ashamed to be classed as German.

A train journey and a bus ride took us out to Dachau where Sonja explained that this was never a death camp, not like Auschwitz. Dachau was a work camp and between 1933 and 1938 it housed political prisoners.

On November 9th 1938 another event that centred on Munich took place that as to swell the numbers detained in Dachau and set the scene for one of the darkest events in history.

On this night Hitler was in Munich celebrating the anniversary of the Beer Hall Putsch. Whilst there he received news of the murder by shooting of Ernest vom Rath, a German Embassy official, by a young Jew named Herschel Grynszpan. Hitler and his cohorts seized this event as an opportunity to begin their wholesale persecution of the Jewish People and the Kristallnacht, or night of the broken glass began. This involved the mass arrests of Jews and destruction of their property and synagogues. 30,000 Jewish men were arrested, 11,911 of them being sent to Dachau.

We passed into the concentration camp through the iron gates that bear the words 'Arbeit Macht Frei' - 'Work will set you free'. Someone once asked Sonja if that was some kind of ironic joke. The answer is it wasn't. Dachau was originally built to re-educate people and turn them into useful members of the Reich. During its early years some of the political prisoners were actually released when their sentences were deemed to have been served.

From 1938 Dachau became a model for the other concentration camps, more than 1500 of them. Dachau had a sizeable training wing to allow German officers to learn how to control and break the spirit of the inmates.

Touring the camp two things became apparent to me. The first was Sonja's passion for enabling those on her tour to understand what went on here. The two most chilling areas were the cell block where prisoners were tortured and murdered and the gas chamber and crematorium. No one knows for sure how many died here. It is estimated at about 48,000 people. When the American liberators arrived they found bodies stacked up in the room adjacent to the incinerators - too numerous for the crematorium to deal with.

Sonja refused to enter either of these areas for fear of becoming de-sensitised to the horror of it all.

By contrast, what also became apparent to me was my own lack of emotion. I don't mean I didn't feel sad or was unmoved by what I saw and learned, but I wasn't moved to tears. I think that after the poverty of Africa and the horrors of the genocide memorial in Kigali maybe I have started to become slightly de-sensitised myself.

The final part of the tour was where Sonja became really passionate about her subject. This was the memorial to the dead and the epic words 'Never again'.

It is those words that so enrage Sonja. She turned to the group and said:

'This isn't just about the history of Germany, this is about the history of mankind. It's wrong to think that it stopped in 1945. Since then there have been genocides, including Cambodia in the 1970's and in 1994 in Rwanda. The United Nations introduced the term 'ethnic cleansing' to describe what happened in Bosnia so they could claim that there had been no more genocides in Europe since 1945.

'My own government detains people without trial and tortures them in Guantanamo Bay. It is wrong to believe we have learned from our mistakes, we haven't.'

By coincidence the book I am reading at the moment is Ghost Train to the Eastern Star by that inveterate traveller, Paul Theroux. Speaking about his visit to the killing fields of Cambodia he clearly shares Sonja's sentiment. I'll leave you with his words:

'The traveller's conceit is that barbarism is something singular and foreign to be encountered on some pinched and parochial backwater. The traveller journeys to this remote place and it seems to be so: he is offered the worst atrocities that can be served up by a sadistic government. And then, to his shame, he realises that they are identical to ones advocated and diligently applied by his own government. As for the sanctimony of people who seem blind to he fact that mass murder is still an annual event, look at Cambodia, Rwanda, Darfur, Tibet, Burma and elsewhere - the truer shout is not 'Never again' but 'Again and again.'




Acknowledgements:

www.thehistoryplace.com

Wikipedia

Ghost Train to the Eastern Star by Paul Theroux

New Europe Tours - Munich