Peace Garden

I passed Birmingham’s Peace Garden and stopped to get this picture. It’s obviously not of the garden, it’s actually a memorial dedicated to Brum’s war dead; behind it is the garden.


The thing about peace is that it’s a state of affairs in which there are no enemies – so this must be a good thing right? Of course, when the enemies are lobbing bombs or firing guns at you (which were probably supplied to them by your own government) then it’s no laughing matter; so I’m not going to go on about that kind of enemy. But I do want to share with you my thoughts about personal enemies … (ain’t you the lucky ones)

I was just contributing my tuppence worth to a post by jealoustwin when I realised that I dont have any enemies. If it’s true that “a man is judged by the enemies he keeps” then how will I be judged. Batman has the Penguin and the Joker, Spiderman has the Green Goblin and Dr. Octopus, even Dubya has Osama and Saddam. But what implaccable foe defines me???

The answer is I have none – I am enemyless, I am bereft of a baddie, I am foe-lically challenged. Surely if I had an enemy I would be judged that much more interesting … (I know, I know – how much more interesting can a guy get but there’s always room for improvement)

So how does one acquire an enemy? judging from the above list, I suppose you have to stop somebody from getting something that they want. Like I said, I’m just talking about personal enemies so stopping of meglomaniacs I’ll leave to the big boys, (and the voting public). So what can a potential enemy of my personal acquaintance want that I can stop them from getting? … urm … hmmm … errr … this is going to be tricky!

I suppose the Postman wants to deliver the post – I could always block-up the letterbox and thwart his dastardly bill delivering … could get a bit cold when they turn off the electricity. Well, there’s the neighbour downstairs who bangs on the floor when I turn the washing machine on in the middle of the night … he’s 6’3, he knows where I live and he has a point.

In that case it’ll have to be the little old lady in the cake shop who’s always smiling at me when she hands over the egg custards. I mean what is her problem? Why can’t she be as miserable as the dementors in every other shop I walk into. And she can’t fool me into thinking it’s a plastic “have a nice day” type smile as doled out by the (McDonalds/KFC/Burger King/Wimpys – delete as required) burger-flippers. Ohhh Nooo – her’s is one of those genuine smiles that forces a genuine smile back in return … the cynical old biddy.

Yes, from this day forth granny home bake, your days of peaceful smiling are over, I am your nemesis.

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