Authors Electric

I started thinking about this blog two Sundays ago, August 30 th . The date seemed to ring a bell. Why? It wasn’t a birthday I should have remembered, it wasn’t a deadline date, there wasn't anything which I’d forgotten to do or go to. Then I realised. It was the anniversary – the 76 th  – of the great Luftwaffe air raid on RAF Biggin Hill during the Battle of Britain ,  the defining event of my father's life. Biggin Hill today Four days later came his birthday, September 3 rd.   A few weeks before that, my brother had passed over to me a box containing memorabilia to pass on to my grandson Joe, the only one who will carry on the family name. And what is in the box? A Silver Oakleaf lapel badge denoting outstanding civilian bravery, a British Empire Medal, an Imperial Service Medal, a badge to mark thirty years service to his Trade Union, a letter from the Postmaster General dated 16th October 1940 outlining what he did on that fateful night, various cu...

You are reading this on my eightieth birthday. Yes,   The Big 8 . I don't find this easy to believe. Twenty years ago, reaching such a milestone seemed the merest fantasy. Ten years ago I thought it possible but extremely unlikely. And now, here I am. Made it.  I feel fine - actually, I feel about forty - and confidently expect in twenty years' time to get my congratulatory telegram from King William. It is, I suppose, a sort of Rite of Passage. And of course, such a rite makes one pause and survey. And this survey leads me to a stark cleavage in life which I don't think I'm the only one to experience - the great divide between private happiness and public misery. The first is never a given: we either work for it or it falls into our laps. Or both. The second is always with us - and, I'm hardly alone in thinking, particularly sharply now. How lucky I am to have the first in spades. Its profound aspects I'll leave because they are too deep for words. I'...