VE Day

I was born in 1949, four years after the end of the Second World War. My mother was in her late twenties when she had me, sister to a brother who was born in 1947. We were slum kids.
The tenements of the East End was our playground.
Stone steps leading up to our grandmothers flat. With a black stove and outside lav. I can remember newspaper threaded on string hung on the lavatory door.
We had baths in the bath house in Whitechapel. White tiles and the smell of carbolic soap.
I can’t verify any of this as my mother, the archivist, died years ago. But I can rely on my memory, which thankfully, is still in tact.
My father was in the army, a soldier who feigned madness to get out of fighting. So intelligent was his insanity that the powers that be believed him. My father was an actor of rare talent, shitting up the green hospital walls and taking electric shock treatment, I always wondered whether he was indeed mad to be able to play the part so well.
We were the lucky ones, our Jewish families were safe in the rubble of Aldgate.
And so in this year of 2025 we celebrate 80 years of victory.
The jingoistic dangling of Union Jack bunting makes me uneasy. The dialysis unit had streams of flags hung up by the Philippine nurses. Trollies of cupcakes were wheeled through the beds by Malaysian carers. A blaring soundtrack of the 40’s filled the wards, Glen Miller and Dame Vera crooning over the white cliffs of Dover.
A whole week of tinny tunes.
An old friend asked me whether I had watched the service.
‘Made me feel queasy’ I said.
‘Made me cry’ she said.
I felt the same as I do every hear when people pull out their poppies. When the media layers on the sentiment. When we are bombarded with a cruel lie. Celebrating peace when we are in fact involved in various conflicts around the globe. The Uk spends around £11.5 billion pounds a year on war games, we are the 7th largest exporter of arms in the world. We are sold the myth of victory and peace.
Waving flags and singing along to those blue birds doth not make for peace. It is but a glorification of war. I do not swoon or cry when I see the veterans, I am grateful for their sacrifice and I’m grateful – as a Jew – for the bravery of thousands and thousands of servicemen and woman. But do not tell me that dressing up in 40’s suits and sitting at long tables in the street eating egg and cress sandwiches is an expression of patriotism.
Until we stop supporting war, until we stop making weapons, until we stop dropping bombs and terrorising humanity, then you can have as as many VE Day celebrations as you like it doesn’t change a thing.
Of course the Second World War was horrendous, millions of people lost their lives fighting for freedom, but until we change the mind set of men nothing will change.
Grabbing land, destroying the earth for the sake of real estate, displacing children, killing, killing, killing for what?
The hypocrisy of our leaders who spend money on guns and bombs whilst our very infra structure is creaking under the strain of a lack of investment. I do not join the masses in the weeping of crocodile tears.
The Reform party have been voted in by the most vociferous patriots, but it’s us for us, not us for them. And the selfish xenophobic arseholes who have been elected by short sighted voters will serve us badly.
Living in harmony requires more than one voice. You can’t sing in harmony all alone on an empty stage. Harmony requires the deep bass notes and the highest sopranos to sing together. Reform want to sing their own empty refrain, whilst the mindless chorus settle for a tuneless cacophony.
No of course I don’t weep at the ancient survivors, I weep at the wasted lives of the dead. I weep at the senseless, sanctimonious sermons.
We either want peace or we don’t. We either want a clean planet or we don’t
We either want equality for all or we don’t.
And we don’t get a decent society if we are forever glorifying war.
It is Men, and men alone, who continually drop us in the shit. Those Men of war who line their pockets and care not a jot for humanity. Do you really think Farage is going to serve the nation?
Or Trump?
Or Netenyahu?
Or the warmongers in India and Pakistan or the rapacious Ruskies who invade Ukraine?
It’s power for powers sake.
Money for monies sake.
A distraction from the real issues.

They’ve taken the bunting down now in the dialysis unit and we’re back to normal life – lack of resources and overworked nurses.
Bong and I discussed the new Pope today. Bong is from the Philippines and a devout Catholic. What did he make of all the pomp and circumstance?
He smiled, a knowing smile and wiped the end of my bloody pipes with antiseptic tissues. .
Britain was doing its bit as he worked his butt off for a lousy wage to send home to his family in Manila.
It’s all so obvious. Spend £11.5 billion on life not death.
My friend thought I was disrespectful because I made a joke about the blue birds of Dover crashing into the camera.
What about those who died for us? she asked.
‘Let them sleep in peace.’ I said
And let us stop drinking tea and whistling ‘We’ll meet again’ and move on. Let us learn from the past so we dont repeat our atrocious ways, let us bury the hatchet and ‘Give Peace a Chance.’