If there's one thing I've learned after four years of war it's this:
You can't stop foxes eating your chickens.
You might think that's a metaphor; it's not. Winter of '18 I swear we would never have never gone onto the streets if those chickens had survived. But the war made everyone hungry. And those that are hungry are bold and fearless. ANd no matter how high the fences went, and no matter how much chicken wire we used, the foxes and rats crept into our homes, stole from our larders and nipped at the toes of our babies.
At home, that was the beginning. It took a revolution on the front to make it a reality. Gwen and I had almost forgotten about Charles. Almost. When he turned up on the doorstep looking thin and pale - like the ghost he was - she nearly died. It could have been over, but it wasn't. The war went on without us and we, proud island nation, bared our considerable teeth across the sea, where the war machine still churned pretty boys into harmless mush. And then a different war began.
You can't stop foxes eating your chickens.
You might think that's a metaphor; it's not. Winter of '18 I swear we would never have never gone onto the streets if those chickens had survived. But the war made everyone hungry. And those that are hungry are bold and fearless. ANd no matter how high the fences went, and no matter how much chicken wire we used, the foxes and rats crept into our homes, stole from our larders and nipped at the toes of our babies.
At home, that was the beginning. It took a revolution on the front to make it a reality. Gwen and I had almost forgotten about Charles. Almost. When he turned up on the doorstep looking thin and pale - like the ghost he was - she nearly died. It could have been over, but it wasn't. The war went on without us and we, proud island nation, bared our considerable teeth across the sea, where the war machine still churned pretty boys into harmless mush. And then a different war began.
