It's my birthday today and I have a searing throat that insists on adding that little extra pain by forcing coughing spasms. Marvellous. But, birthday wishes coming through, so at least other people can do the singing.
I meant to write about Chris Hall's talk about the spanish civil war that I went to on Monday evening. The room was full and extra chairs had to be put out. Shows that there is interest in the subject, or that Chris has a lot of friends. From the comments and questions at the end, I'm guessing the former. Have to say he answered all the well researched and knowledgable comments with dexterity. You have to know your subject when so many other people are passionate about it too.
And that was what was good. People's passion. Passion about the war on Monday and, which came across through Chris, who was an engaging speaker, the passion of the volunteers. These were men who couldn't fight, didn't know about warfare, but were chosen for their belief in the cause. You could ask if the people doing the recruiting really wanted to win if they were choosing soldiers who weren't fighters, but this didn't seem to be the point, my friends. Passion and belief and a united way of thinking. Mmmm. Wars, some wars are still being fought like that, but that's a different discussion. Or one at a tangent.
Chris made me want to know more about the war. Definitely. I was interested anyway, but it has fuelled my willingness to find out more.
It was like being at a 'Support the War Fundraiser' in some ways, only the war is over. Or so I thought. Several people commented how little many spaniards want to talk about this time. And it needs to be talked about. Why? Answers please.
My family are from Jerez. Makes me want to ask questions there. Apparently Jerez is still very divided.
And the audience. I sat next to a very interesting couple. They have moved to Didsbury from a stint in Dusseldorf. He was english, she spanish, from Madrid. They talked of having a season ticket to an opera house in Germany and their tickets being for Friday evenings, they had to go to whatever was on that night. So, they saw operas they wouldn't have chosen to and that this opened their minds and tastes and they saw it as positive.
Like this night. What I love is going to see, hear, experience something that you wouldn't normally pick. I did want to see this, so the argument doesn't quite hold, but you get my drift - I'm ignorant about the spanish civil war, so it was new to me. And I almost didn't go as this nasty cold thing was just laying its nest, but I thought I shouldn't miss the opportunity, so I went. And so glad I did! For the reasons I've said and for one other. Well, two. The red wine was nice.
Someone who I knew at university was there. They'd seen the Book Festival advertised in the Manchester Evening News, recognised my name, got in touch with a philipine prostitute called Ruth Estevez, decided that wasn't me, so thought they'd see if this one was, couldn't come to my talk, but as I'd said on my blog I was coming to this one... and I don't have to pretend, it was a surprise that was warm and enjoyable and a pleasure. I won't give names, but we somehow clicked at college, don't know what it was and I remember we talked a lot. And then he left and that was it. And then he was here. Isn't life strange? United by the spanish civil war in Chorlton? Now doesn't that make you proud?
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