Rambles from World's End

In the October of 1943, in a sleepy South African capital a young newlywed woman anticipates the birth of her first child. Her husband was somewhere on the front fighting a war that perhaps he did not truly understand, but he obeyed the orders and perhaps killed someone who, in another time, he may have called friend. One hundred kilometres away in a bustling coastal South African city another young newlywed woman awaits the birth of her first child. Her husband, injured during the battle of El Alemein in 1942, made it home in the February of 1943 for their wedding, only to leave to fight again. But in the October of 1943 as these mothers awaited the birth of their first child, what was it that they were thinking? While German torpedo boats sink British destroyers off the North coast of Brittany, did they pray for those drowned sailors?   Were they aware that British Troops replaced striking London dockworkers, did it matter to them? Did they feel some emotion when they learn...

In a run of generosity my eyes only opened at half past five this morning instead of half past three, an extra two hours sleep really fills the energy bar up. Usually I'll use the quiet of the early morning hours to write or read but this morning as the sun was up I thought I'd get up and use the time to do my chores and a few secret things before the girls began to stir. I got off to a good start, hung out the washing emptied the dishwasher, sorted the rubbish bags and recycling for collection, made the Mauritian's breakfast and switch on the kettle for coffee. Then it all turned to custard! With the rising of the offspring came the carnage! It was a silent attack at first, both trying to fit onto one beanbag to sit and look at the newly acquired fishes in a tank. With the growing rivalry came the whining which prompted mediation, separation and breakfast. Apparently it is not wise for the mediator to have a shower at these fragile times, on emerging clean and refreshed...