Spent part of this evening watching “War & Exile”, a joint performance by a number of local arts groups in St Pancras Old Church, with donations going to the Stop The War campaign.
Some powerful words I wrote down:
* “Unspeakable grief is only a politician away.”
* “Karl Marx puked in his grave” (an interesting variation on the old spinning)
* “taught to die with their black caps askew”
* ” he has to run without his shirt”, from a translation of a Somali poem by Abdullahi Botan, who I gather lives locally.
And much enjoyed a reading from Deborah Moggach, about a housemaid watching the village horses being taken off to war (must look up some of hers).
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