That time of year again

It is that time of year again, when history repeats itself. The funfair has rolled in once more , as it does every August. The local carpark given over to it is packed with ferris wheels, hurdy-gurdies, food stalls and shooting stands. In actual fact its proper title in this case is Schützenfest, defined elsewhere as " a traditional festival or fair featuring a target shooting competition".
I dislike this festival because of the prominence it gives to weapons and if you have had even the slightest contact with the death of someone because arms were not properly locked away in a house then the experience colours your attitude to this type of event. It runs until August 10th and the town is full of beer tents, amateur artists and clowns while local politicians and councilors make meaningless speeches at a time when people elsewhere have to endure bombs raining brutally and mercilessly down on them. All this leads me to the thought that the country you are born in really can have a major impact on your fate and the quality of life you enjoy. 70 years ago this particular town from where I am writing, Coburg, was at the heart of a political development that finally saw the bombs rain down on Dresden, Munich, Hamburg and other German cities. These days its Gaza that is suffering, at the hands of the descendents of those who suffered in the 1930s. It is hard to credit, if you think about it. What it is even more mind-boggling is the level of self-deception and heartlessness currently holding sway in Israel. All we con do for now is hope that there will be a ceasefire tonight.