Band of brothers

The weather here in Southern Illinois has been very pleasant the last few days, hovering between the 80 - 86f mark, nice for a little Brit boy who loves heat and hates cold. The draw back has been the humidity, which has risen and makes a simple walk a wet armpit affair. But I really could get used to it, I've noticed the old wounds, the leg and the back have not ached a bit since I got here. Well actually that's not true, the leg was stiff and sore yesterday as Matt left the AC on and a fan was blowing cold air right over it, which come 4am was making my left throb with pain, but nothing a quick shot of neat vodka and a sleeping pill couldn't cure!

Other than that there hasn't been a lot to report, Matt's been going to work as usual, three hours in the morning, break for two hours and back again in the afternoon for four or so hours. He seems to be enjoying it and likes the time off, although I am a little worried how he's going to be able to pay for things when I'm not here and he goes back to college. I know his parents support him quite a lot, more than I thought they did, which is very kind and I wonder how he'd have coped without them, not well I would have thought.

While he's been at work I've been keeping house, doing the laundry and the cooking and, well all the things you'd expect a kept man to do. Although I'm still not completely at ease with the rapidly cooking stove, we've come to an understanding and cooking is no longer a chore but a pleasure. Again, this is something I could get used to, however, I need a little discipline in my life to get me to stop watching daytime telly (all 76 channels of it) and do some writing, complete the novel, finish the short story, proof the article and actually make some money from being creative rather than just blogging about doing everything other than that, or being transfixed by Twitter. However, I am pleased to say that I have not gone on Twitter at all today, which is an accomplishment if you ask me, although I am itching to find out what my Twitter friends have been up to!

Oh other top things today, at lunch time, Matt checked the mouse trap and guess what? We'd caught the little mousy that has been stealing the squirrel food from the closet and tearing about the place. Now before you raise your arms up and call the animal police, I have you know that it was a humane trap, the little mouse was still very much alive, a little worried perhaps, but otherwise unhurt. It's a brown clear plastic box, with a flip one way door. You fill the end with food and leave on floor for mouse to smell food and in go. Well the little mousey did smell the food and did go on and there he was. So, we took him out the back, to where the local baptist church has a field, with countryside beyond and let the little mouse out into the wild. We were free of mouse in the house and the mouse was free in the world - yes he was probably eaten by a hawk or a vulture but that's the way of the natural world and he wasn't in the house. However, while I've been writing this blog, just before bedtime Matt has mentioned that he misses the mouse! I on the other hand am pleased to be living in a mouse free zone!

War, the curse of man, the darkest soul of mankind, the degradation of the human race, a pointless exercise in demonstration national strength, an outlet for the evil, the evil that men do, a sensible and justified way to resolve conflict and disagreement. Choose whichever one you find close to your beliefs and views, as for me, may I just steal the words of Norman Whitfield, made famous by Edwin Starr, War, what is it good for? Absolutely nothing!

On the History channel all day they have shown back to back episodes of that modern classic, horrendous, yet utterly compelling drama miniseries Band Of Brothers. Which has captivated me throughout the day and into the evening. Yes, I am awear that it's been dramatised and there has been certain literary licence taken to bring the accounts of the men of E Company to the screen, but in essence and essentially it is based on real life, on actuality. The bulk of the action actually took place, whilst there are many scenes that are epic, noteworthy and wonderfully shot and put together, one that sticks in my mind, images that I can not shift from behind the eye is the concentration camp one. Our 'hero's' come through the woods and stumble upon the camp, they enter and that sight, that scene that caused tears to sting my eyes, will not fade away and only reinforces the tragic waste of life, the futility of war, the human sacrifice that was, sadly and tragically the way of World War II.

It's a wonderful series, well worth the money (approx $12 million per episode) produced in part by Tom Hanks fresh from his Saving Private Ryan success and collaboration with Steven Spielberg, who also had the 'final eye' over Band Of Brothers. I'm sure it'll be repeated time and time again on various TV channels throughout the world, and I hope it's used as an educational tool, detailing how utterly horrific war is and can be. I also say that if you can be untouched by what you see during the 10 episodes of the show complete the the knowledge, that the bulk of what you are seeing actually took place. Then you are either dead, or the most uncaring, unemotional person that ever did walk the earth and have no business reading this blog.

Different cultures view the war in Europe differently, for example the other week I was in the car with Matt and his parents, I think we were coming back from Kentucky or something and Matt's dad, asks out of the blue "Were any of your family involved on World War II?" It's not a question that's generally asked often in Europe, I've spoken to my Danish and Austrian friends about it, and they agree, most Europeans are, shall we say, more silent on the subject. The Americans are perhaps more open and upfront about their interest in such things. I told Steve, Matt's dad that none of the family were really involved, my father was just a small boy and evacuated to the countryside, my grandfather was a fireman and put out the fire of the blitz in London and that was about it.

I'd didn't mention great uncle John, not really sure why, perhaps I was stunned by the openness of the questions, perhaps because great uncles John is only distantly related and not perhaps at the fore front of my mind, but nonetheless, great uncle John was in WWII. He was a desert rat, served along side John Charles Campbell and others until he stepped on a landmine and had his toes blown off and was invalided out, he say he was only of the lucky ones, he just had to learn to walk again minus his toes, others had worse to cope with and then there were those that didn't have the luxury of coming home.

It started me thinking, I'd wished I'd asked uncle John far more questions, say applies to my grandfather, I should have found out for the older generation what it was like, the stories they could tell, the lives they had lead were far different to mine, to that of my generation. They've endured things that we can only dream about - or watch miniseries, about. I should have asked more, while I was young and impressionable, but, as they say, youth is wasted on the young! I was more interested in Lego, going out on my bike, hot all milk coco that Nana used to make, playing skittles or putting on the mini golf course they had in their garden. I wasn't interested in listening, just doing, I was young, I was stupid, now, I'd given anything to listen to them recount tales of their past.