tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6496460488742488789.post8864934303162507283..comments2024-03-18T10:29:46.055+00:00Comments on Ken Armstrong Writing Stuff: The Thirteenth Going on the FourteenthKen Armstronghttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07775956557261111127noreply@blogger.comBlogger4125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6496460488742488789.post-1373071301203958712021-02-16T08:59:46.286+00:002021-02-16T08:59:46.286+00:00Thank you Ken. Thank you Ken. Brid Qhttps://www.blogger.com/profile/13246076289208899524noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6496460488742488789.post-29281957110595064172021-02-14T23:31:16.842+00:002021-02-14T23:31:16.842+00:00Their memories haunt their families every Valentin...Their memories haunt their families every Valentine's Day ,no one to answer their questions;why am I not surprised. Barbara Kellyhttps://www.blogger.com/profile/07412310887430231905noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6496460488742488789.post-46754201992778721352021-02-14T16:19:56.904+00:002021-02-14T16:19:56.904+00:001981. Let’s see. I’ve no doubt I remembered Valent...1981. Let’s see. I’ve no doubt I remembered Valentine’s Day because I’ve only not bothered with it the once (I kinda thought Carrie and I were done with all that but I was informed it was a holy day of obligation) and I’ll never forget it again although this year I had to dig out the emergency card. 1981. I had a nearly-one-year-old daughter and a four-year-old marriage that was beginning to fall to pieces although I’d no idea it was. I’d recently been promoted, something I’d worked hard to achieve, but got transferred to a new office and into a field I had no experience of and certainly no expertise in—imagine the bass player in a rock band getting sent to conduct a symphony orchestra (it’s all music, innit)—and I was struggling big time. I was also, unbeknownst to me (but because of burnout I now realise), slipping into my first major depression. So you’ll forgive me if I don’t remember the Stardust Fire. Nothing in the <i>Wikipedia</i> article rings any bells either. I might not’ve been watching the news back then. I’ve often gone for years without picking up a paper or tuning into the news on radio or TV. My dad never read a newspaper so I guess I picked up that habit from him. Also his sense of detachment; there was us and the world and we didn’t really bother with the world. Never quite shaken that. Which is why, I guess, I’ve struggled to engage with politics most of my life. Upbringings have a lot to answer for.Jim Murdochhttps://www.blogger.com/profile/12786388638146471193noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6496460488742488789.post-739777521553147592021-02-14T13:30:30.897+00:002021-02-14T13:30:30.897+00:00Beautiful and heart wrenching.
Stay safe, Ken. Beautiful and heart wrenching. <br /><br />Stay safe, Ken. Roberta Bearyhttps://www.blogger.com/profile/11651098848744500023noreply@blogger.com