Comic opera

More rain and wind. I was unable to communicate with anyone (even Lee) about last night, the whole thing. . . . I tried but I couldn't make it work.

We had a test on Weimar Germany in History and afterwards me and Lee left, stopped at my house, and went to Farnshaw. I bought a thin long grey overcoat for £2.50 at the Dr. Barnardoes and Lee got a pair of serge type trousers which he sold to me as they didn’t fit him very well. They’re really good.

We walked back to my house, played records, drank tea, and tried on clothing, ironed it, took down hems, etc. . . .

In the evening I watched a war film and this got me around to reflecting on the hypocrisy of the Nuremburg trials. The Allies two-facedly accused and convicted the Germans of crimes that they themselves had been guilty of, such as the bombing of cities like Dresden, Hiroshima, and Nagasaki, as if they had the moral right to judge others. They created a black-and-white situation where really there was just one foul grey mess. The convenient Western alliance with the Russians painted Stalin as a glowing War Illustrated-type hero, when he was in fact a mass murderer just like Hitler. Allied propaganda whitewashed this. The powerful constantly deceive, manipulate, and lie.

But I'm no better, my pseudo-anarchist beliefs shown up by my laziness and personal ostentatious crap.

Later, Dad got frantic and angry because I didn't appreciate a Rossini comic opera which he made me sit through. “How can anyone not like this?”