Last night I watched television fitfully, between chores, trips to the toilet etc.. Sometimes I sat where I couldn’t see properly. A programme about the Holocaust came on, featuring the testimonies of descendants of the people who ran the concentration camps. For a spell, I couldn’t see the subtitles. But in the middle of all this was two minutes of repetition, a father’s answer to his daughter. “nicht Vernichtungslager, Arbeitslager”… or something like that – my German isn’t up to much. But even I recognised the denial: “Not extermination camp, work camp”. Denial, denial, denial. Maybe it’s a sign of a shred of humanity, that he couldn’t admit to what was done there. Maybe it’s a sign that we, maybe all of us, can tread down that path and bit by imperceptible bit, weave a web of self-deceit.
Today, Janet ended in Ironbridge, and more history, this time, the history of industrial Britain, the industrial world, and a part of my history too. I had never seen the Bridge before AFAIR, and here’s a picture where a few bits are just about visible behind the spring foliage.
