Rain storm

I'm in some kind of mega rain storm in some kind of mega country house in Oxfordshire. It's not a bad place to be in a storm. We're at the wedding of a pair of Nathan's more theatrical friends. It's been a lively and rather lovely do with many of the Royal Airforce Theatre Club members present. 

The newly weds hired in a photo booth and a box of dressing up clothes for wedding guests to take comedy photographs in. Two copies of each photo came out of the machine; one of which went into a special book for the bride and groom, which felt like a very lovely idea for a souvenir, although one wonders quite how much these things must cost. The wedding industry is an absolute license to print money, which makes me feel quite angry sometimes.

There was a chocolate fountain which I made good use of. Pineapple, I discovered, is a particularly good thing to stick on a skewer and suspend under a waterfall of the stuff. Highly decadent. 

I had a lovely chat about my First World War musical, which people seem genuinely interested to hear about. I'm actually trying to encourage as many people as I can to talk about relatives who fought in the conflict or were affected by it in some way. It's astonishing how many people have fascinating familial tales to tell, and how the war still inspires, chills and moves people 100 years on. 

Ali, who's directing the show I've written music for, talked about her great-grandfather, one of the catastrophically high number of men killed in the battle of the Somme whose body was never found. Her great-grandmother was 8 months pregnant at the time, and her Grandfather was therefore born without a father. Horrifying.

I continue to wade through my AJP Taylor history of the war. It's such an ancient book (published in 1963) that every time I turn a page, it comes away in my hand! I opened it today and the whole thing split in two! It was obviously second hand when I bought it, or was given it, and I find myself wondering how many other people have leafed their way through it. 

The most interesting thing it throws up is the astonishing incompetence displayed by those in charge of the military at the time. This really was the first of a new type of war, which no longer resembled a game of cricket where gentlemen finished their tea before squaring up to one another. Many of the early conflicts of the war; particularly those in the Caucasus or the Dardanelles, were absolutely thrown away by generals who demanded afternoon naps, or decent breakfasts before continuing with their campaigns... Whilst they rested, the enemy were able to call for back up, or regroup. Thousands of men lost their lives because the old farts in charge still thought they were fighting the Crimean war. Sassoon talks often about generals in their nightcaps, miles back from the front line, grumbling about unsuccessful working parties without any knowledge of what soldiers were enduring.

We take so much for granted these days.

I danced to one tune in the disco tonight... Mamma Mia! It's fast becoming my theme tune. It's not even my favourite ABBA song.