July 26th, 2008

This One Turned Darker Than I Originally Intended

Someone took a picture of me at the wedding- dancing with Alice- and I look like a cave-dwelling, albino frog. It got me wanting to grow a beard (a) to improve my appearance (frogs don't wear beards) and (b) because- as I'm clearly a silly, old greybeard who shouldn't be dancing- I might as well look the part. My resolve lasted three days- or was it four? My beard has always been patchy- it still is- and if I can't grew a glorious face muff like Radovan Karadzic's I'm not interested.

Karadzic used to be a poet- maybe still is. Stalin was a poet too- quite a good one, apparently.  So much for the civilising effect of literature!

Oh, and Saddam Hussein used to write historical romances.

One of the papers- I think it was the Telegraph-  reprinted extracts from the articles Karadizic published in his second life as a beardy, quack doctor. There was an outstanding one about how the basis of every religion is a regard for the sacredness of human life. My first thought was, "how does he have the gall?" and then I remembered that Tony Blair is also making a second career- very lucrative in his case- jetting round the world, talking about God and faith and peace.

I don't suppose I feel sorry for Karadzic- but it's victor's justice that's taking him to the Hague. Compared to any number of international figures who are in no danger of having their collars felt, he's a small time contestant in the atrocity leagues. 

On a related note, I read this morning that 13,000,000 Germans were involved- at some level- in implementing the Final Solution. Most of them got away with it. If the allies had been serious about pursuing justice they'd have had to put most of the adult, male population of Germany behind bars. People like Karadzic- and Hitler and Stalin and Mugabe and You Know Who- take the lead- but they never want for willing instruments. 

Nice little species, ain't we?


We stopped (very briefly) at Cirencester on the way home last Tuesday and I went round the church (which is in the process of being restored and is mostly a building site) and Ailz ate a roast pork butty she bought at the market stall you can see in this picture. She also bought cherries and peaches. Cirencester used to be called Corinium and there's a Roman museum I badly want to visit.