Not that I will have much to say, but I want to exercise the writing muscles a bit more, expect it to be bland boring things, I don’t expect you to read or care – but I need to be writing stuff down that isn’t about strategic objectives.
“Tell me a story, Mummy,” said Daisy. “Tell me the story of a city.”
Well, we live in a city, rather conveniently, and over the years I have gathered a fair bit of knowledge about its history, so that’s what I did. It took 45 minutes, but I’m sure I missed some bits.
The thing with history as a story, is you’re making it up as you go along. I mean, obviously not – the actual events have some historical basis, to the best of my understanding, but what goes in, in what depth, and with which sympathies, pretty much emerges as the tale unfolds. I was not, for example, expecting to go into so much detail about the 1981 riots and Michael Heseltine. But I seem to have done a reasonably balanced job of it – Daisy interrupted me to say, “I don’t know whose side to be on, now! I was on the side of the black people who were being bullied by the police, but now they’ve started rioting, and there’s no excuse for that!” If she can’t choose a side, I must have presented the story balanced on a knife edge!