All For Naught Orphan Ufonaut
Nothing for something
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It's a 1970s school playground at an English Comprehensive with concrete and white paint indicating where basketball and soccer equipment can be used. The schoolchildren are busily plaguing each other while a small knot of more knowing adult seeming youths gather together in a tight band and begin chanting, `We won the war in nineteen fifty-four.` One of the boys tries to make a correction, `Shouldn't that be nineteen forty-five? Nazi Germany was defeated in 1945, wasn`t it? The Second World War? Nineteen thirty-nine to nineteen forty-five?' The chant goes on, and on with little or no variatio...
It's a 1970s school playground at an English Comprehensive with concrete and white paint indicating where basketball and soccer equipment can be used. The schoolchildren are busily plaguing each other while a small knot of more knowing adult seeming youths gather together in a tight band and begin chanting, `We won the war in nineteen fifty-four.` One of the boys tries to make a correction, `Shouldn't that be nineteen forty-five? Nazi Germany was defeated in 1945, wasn`t it? The Second World War? Nineteen thirty-nine to nineteen forty-five?' The chant goes on, and on with little or no variation. The smallest boy in the playground knew a different story, but he wasn't telling. Instead, he cast his mind back to a time before, a time when he'd been safe and happy, a place in which he'd been cared for by tall blonde men and women who one day told him he was going to a place called Earth.
