Don’t count your kids before they arrive, Juno

Last night I watched the programme that reminded me why I pay a licence fee (for some time now I have been unhappy with too much of the news coverage – but that’s a discussion to be had over a cup of tea or a single malt).

Children of the Blitz on BBC 2 was one of the most sensitively made and moving documentaries I have ever seen. As I watched it (tissues in hand) I recalled the stories that my darling parents told of war time and, more importantly, the ones Dad wrote down and had never told us.

The East End, being near the docks, was mercilessly pounded night after night.

And on the next page

Where had he hidden these memories and where had his father hidden the horrors of The Battle of the Somme and all the devastation he witnessed when serving in the First World War?

The destruction of buildings and whole areas the length and breadth of this land were described by those who were children at the time of the Blitz. The film footage was extraordinary and horrifying – yet the people of this country rebuilt and recovered and we asked all involved to put away their memories and carry on. They did but one little boy (now in his nineties) wept as he recalled the loss of his father fighting to liberate Europe from the Nazis. I wept with him when he asked us not to forget the father he barely knew who gave his life so that we could be free.

I was in London at 1pm this afternoon standing at the rally against antisemitism. I travelled into town with my brother and sister-in-law – the three of us born in England as were our parents and most of our grandparents. The tragedy for all of us is that we love Great Britain, expected to live out our days in this country and now we are fighting for our right to work and live as other citizens of this so-called liberal democracy without fear and without increasingly high walls and ever-stronger security.

When I thanked him for being there he said I shouldn’t have to thank him. That brought tears to my eyes.

There were speeches from, amongst others, Kemi Badenoch, The Bishop of Willesden, other politicians and rabbis and community leaders including the brave Muslim Fiyaz Mughal and even a colourful video message from Boy George. Where were the anti-racists, the trade unionists, those who took the knee for black brothers and sisters? There were a large number of Iranians in exile at the rally and many calls from some of the politicians and community leaders for the banning of hate marches, the calling out of the IRGC as a terrorist organisation and the banning of the Muslim Brotherhood and hate preachers.

Saul Taylor, the new young president of The United Synagogue gave the final, rousing address saying loudly that we Jews will not be pushed out of our homes and country. Now it’s down to our politicians and you, the silent majority, to decide.

We left singing God Save the King and thanking the police for keeping us safe as we walked to the station

Just before Christmas we drove to Hereford on a madcap mission to buy a young Golden Guernsey Billy goat with the unlikely name of Rickyard Juno.

Our three Golden Guernsey nanny goats were ready and waiting to meet him and to vie for his attentions.

Juno reminded the girls that King Charles III bestowed the Royal prefix to the breed on 16th July 2024 on his visit to Guernsey

You can read about these special goats in a chapter in my first book, “Jews Milk Goats” (Amazon).

It seems that Juno and Willow, Wisp and Ruth have all got on famously and by the end of the month I hope to be posting news of kids.

I went out early to see the ducks

I was shopping this morning and saw a large plastic bowl at a knockdown price. I bought it and put it in the duck run.

I half-filled it with water and the ducks displayed their innate curiosity. Click below

It was too high for them to jump in so I placed a wooden plinth beside the bowl snd watch what happened. click below