Monday, July 11, 2011
I read the Time Machine in a 16th century mill located in Sudbury, Suffolk. Mostly sitting in the pub downstairs listening to Glenn Miller and other war-era standards.
The publisher remarks that upon re-reading the book, he wasn't greeted with the same sense of amazement and possibility. That modern science and technology has minimized the impact of H.G Wells novella on his modern audience.
The market town of Sudbury was surely inundated by throngs of GI's in 1941. From nearby air bases, on leave, looking for ale, a smoke and a trinket to send home to thier loved ones.
How many hands did it take, fortified with Anglian ale, to create the divot that allows the fireplace poker to find its purchase?
While it would be an increadible coincidence to think that my grandfather ever visited the Mill. Sitting here. listening to Benny Goodman, having a cigarette and beer. I think that there is very little separating me from him in his war-time leisure. Possibly not him, but maybe friends of his?