h2g2 The Hitchhiker's Guide to the Galaxy: Earth Edition

My mother's father was a policeman in WW2, down in Plymouth. Apparently he didn't talk much about the things he'd seen. I've no idea what my father's father did. I'll have to ask sometime.

Err, Kelli, are you sure there's a fault on the line? I only ask because 'Oh, there's a problem with the line' is my normal excuse when I've been incompetent and not paid the bill. Could be a tad embarrassing if you 'phone BT and that' that's reason.

My grandfater's brother was at Jutland, J'au-æmne, but he survived.

In fact that side of the family was just about everywhere during WWI - my grandfather was in Mesopotamia, now known as Iraq. He went to Baghdad and Ramadi, and all over, really. There were three of them in the trenches, Grandfather was at the Christmas Day Truce, and for ages his letters home were the only ones the Imperial War Museum had from an officer. (This was important, since the senior parts of the army and the govt tried to deny it). One of them was an army medic. In fact the only thing that none of them did was fly.

I am supposed to be working at the moment, so more later.

s to those who need them.

Ben

Ooh, history lessons and everything! *Listens attentively*

Hi, SC.

The IIWW. Oy vey. My great-grandparents were some of the last lucky Jews to be bought out of concentration camp and allowed to leave Germany (as long as they left all their money behind and a friend abroad paid an exorbitant 'fine' to the Nazi Government). When my poor great-grandfather found out what had happened to all the unlucky ones who couldn't escape, he had a nervous breakdown and spent the rest of his life in a kind of haunted twilight of the mind. Meanwhile my indomitable great-gran organised foster care for refugee children and then after the war for delinquent children. My grandfather their son had been studying in London and was promptly interned as an enemy alien when the war started. He was allowed out after a bit and married a nurse, but when my Dad was born he was registered as an enemy alien too! Didn't get to be British until months after the war had ended. Meanwhile, my maternal grandfather was captured early on and spent most of the war in a POW camp in Germany, and my grandmother (they hadn't met yet) was in the WAAF.

Going out today, so salve atque vale and see you all tomorrow (when I shall be one of the happy band of brothers who have actually seen the h2g2 movie).

My grandfather never spoke of his experiences during WWI - he was 19yrs old and in the trenches.
But he did tell a hilarious story about himself and one other man, defending a bridge over some inconsequential burn in the north-east of Scotland during WWII. They were expecting the Germans to land that night and had one gun and very little ammunition between them.
He was very fond of 'Dad's Army' - probably because so much of it rang true.

Mr T's father fought in all the major arenas during WWII - he was a telecom bod. He was at Dunkirk and in North Africa - but most of his time was spent in Burma. Ghurkas are regarded with great gratitude in our family - one of them saved his life by 'despatching' a Japanese sniper just in the nick of time.

Kerr, I was being sarcastic - there isn't a fault, he just never bloody rings anyone, even when he needs to

Ah, the Ghurkas... Pa and my Grandfather were both in the Indian Army, not with the Ghurkas, but with the Gawhalis.

I think that saying that they are like the Ghurkas but different is like saying the Irish are like the Scots, but different. The Ghurkas and the Gawhalis are both hill peoples from the high Himalayas, both groups make practical and tough but understated fighters, and both groups are little known and little cared about outside those who - as you say - hold them in affection and respect.

This is interesting. Not only are Salonistas good peeps, but we seem to come from long lines of good peeps.

B

Sorry Kelli, clearly I need more . I possibly also revealed more about my financial habits than any of you need to know.

Being only a young un' neither of my parents fought, or indeed were born, during either world war.

My maternal grandfather was in the Merchant Navy, and managed to get himself listed as 'missing believed dead' twice.
My paternal grandfather was an officer in the RAF, and designed the badge for his squadron (he was a commercial artist by profession). In fact, if you walk into any bar in the UK, you see my grandfather's work. He designed the Smirnoff vodka label, and the old Babycham logo (the Bambi-style one).

My family in WW2. Well, I don't know about my maternal grandfather, but my maternal grandmother was a conscientious objector (not sure how that worked) and was 'punished' by being removed from her job as a librarian and set to work in a hospital. Sounds odd, but that's apparently what happened. My mum grew up on a small-holding and remembers an Italian prisoner of war who did some work there and made her a wooden parrot which she still has (it balances perfectly on a perch and can rock to and fro).

My paternal gradfather flew in the planes that airlifted supplies into Warsaw. He was shot down and taken prisoner on his birthday. Apparently it was the prison camp commander's birthday as well (I do sometimes wonder if he just made this up) and they shared a glass of schnapps before G-dad was incarcerated. He was eventually rescued by the Russians and then eventually found his way back to British soil once the war was over. My paternal gradmother was with the WRAFs.

If I may change the mood in a slightly disrespectful way, I'd like to pass on a couple of new student stories for your edification.

Firstly, we had a visit from some people from the college's computing helpdesk on Monday. They have been selling those USB pen drives to staff and students for a while, and last week had a wonderful question about them. When told that the drive could hold 128MB of info, the student asked "Does it get heavier when you put more information on it?"

Secondly, I had a really sweet e-mail from a student when I sent her a message to say that her inter-library loan items had arrived. Potentially a definition of the word 'overenthusiastic'. Here it is:

"Thank You Thank You Thank you i cant thank you enough, really you've made my day, thank you sooooooo much, i really appreciate it, i'm so happy thank you David."


David

We have a lot of Ghurka soldiers in Hampshire. Most of them go for long periods without seeing their families - and when they do eventually retire, their pensions are far less than that of a British soldier.

Someone told me the story of a dental clinic where the men were given local analgesic injections, then sent back out to the waiting room before being called back in to have the extraction done.
Apparently, on one occasion, a ghurka was mistakenly called in for his extraction before getting his LA. The wee man sat there, unprotesting, and had his tooth removed while being totally sensate - he was following orders.

I've never forgotten meeting an elderly Norwegian man who'd been in the Resistance during WWII. He was terminally ill with cancer and his sister-in-law told me he'd lived with the physical scars from being tortured by Nazis.

All I could do was shake his hand and say a heartfelt "Thank you".

I also met an elderly man who'd been a conscientious objector - he'd been incarcerated in Liverpool for most of the war and was treated very badly by the prison warders, being made to run a gauntlet of physical abuse every time he had to leave his cell. His descriptions of being locked in a cell while the nearby docks were bombed was very vivid. I hope he got round to writing it all down.

I get to meet some wonderful people in the course of my professional life and am privileged to hear their stories.

My Grandmother, who met my Grandfather when she was 17 and got engaged to him after 3 weeks and then didn't see him for 3 years during which the ship he was on sank and he was posted to Mesopotamia / Iraq, finally married him in her early 20s.

She then went out to India, and was a senior Mem' in a hillstation, having to deal with all the Raj bitchiness of women who were older than her but whose husbands were younger than my Granfather. Her. She would never 'bother' with local anasthetics for fillings.

"It's not worth it unless you need to take out the tooth" she told the dentist.

I am like her in a lot of ways - but *not* that one.

B

How I've longed to use that!
Kerr-one of the halls at Warwick is named after the person who brought Smirnoff to the UK. Mine is named afer a car manufacturer. Guess which is the posher halls.

[MTG facinated by the stories]

I've always liked the Smirnoff logo, KA.

B

Sun is shining tide is in, view out of the (RL) window is most uplifting.

Well, I'm afraid bugger all of his artistic talent passed to either me or my father. I can do a fair design sketch, but that's about it.

Ooopps....

The offices I am working in at the moment comprise the 5th floor of a converted mill building. The first two floors are an art gallery, so if you go for a tea or a coffee in the gallery restaurant, you amble past all this Art.

I was coming back upstairs, (5 flights - the lifts are out of order ), when my colleague said "it's a good gallery - there's David Hockneys here" and pointed out a large painted line drawing. It shows a woman sitting on a chair, and is done in poster paints.

Fairy nuff. 'cept I'd walked past it last week and thought 'bloody hell, whoever did that doesn't know how to control their line'.

Hey ho. I'll never be an Art Critic.

Ben

Hey, who said you had to admire every famous artist, just because they *are* famous artists?

I could never get the hang of Van Gogh, I find his work dull and pedestrian. The amount of money art sells for doesn't necessarily relate to its value.

I am rushing again this morning. We have the dedication of a special reading room that is being named for a man who was a genuine WWII hero and was a great friend of the library - raised over $600K for us. He passed away the same week as F. Complications of lung cancer, they said, which makes me wonder why it was complications rather than the cancer that killed him. Oh well.

SC, I'm glad you made it to the salon proper.