w.atching the w.orld unw.ind

The book I'm reading at the moment is, poignantly, a fictional story about Auschwitz-Birkenau, whose 60th anniversary of its liberation is coincidentally being remembered today.

I have no personal connection with the Holocaust - other than just being human - but I like stories that show triumph over impossible odds. That there were some survivors is to be rejoiced over. "Escape from Sobibor" is a killing story.

I view all races, creeds and communities with equanimity - for me, there is no finger-pointing. We can probably do nothing for the remaining survivors now - not even provide retribution with justice, 60 years on. But there is no "tabula rasa" either - no clean slate. Humanity is in emission, and the world must continue to work to earn the respect it thinks it deserves.

And in other news...

Number One Son is, at this moment, somewhere between Los angeles and the Cook Islands.

It was an emotional departure at Heathrow (although Mrs.D. held it together remarkably well, considering - he'll be away for her 50th on March 5th, a birth day they uniquely share, among all the families we've ever known). We'll be in Prague, anyway, so there would have been no usual joint celebration in any case.

He had tied one on, Monday evening. He had bruised ribs from falling onto wooden chairs when "time" was called. His erstwhile travelling mate (though, not this time - it's a one-man World tour) and his adoring sister ensured he got home safely. The latter (and if you're about to eat, look away now) heroically providing the two fingers which saved him from having the copious mixture of alcohols left in his belly during the night.

Spotting the skateboard strapped to his rucksack, the twenty-something couple behind him in the check-in queue confessed to similar hobbies and to being on their way to Auckland for a dj'ing gig. So he had some instant travelling companions for the first leg of the flight, which chuffed him. And he's got my spare scuba mask and the snorkel which has been with me on every dive I've done. It'll be lucky for him, I hope.

I'm gonna severely miss the bu99er, but look forward to the e-mails and postcards.

Gawd, I wish I could've gone with him...