A recent book launch in Bridport brought back long forgotten memories from my childhood. Anna Whitwham’s local launch of Soft Tissue Damage, a memoir about the loss of her mother and the resulting draw to boxing, surfaced buried memories of growing up surrounded by pugilism. My father was president of our local boxing club, and I remember a somewhat primal excitement when listening to the sounds of boxers training in the loft above our pub. I was too little to be allowed to join in, or even to watch. The room had splintered floorboards, rickety stairs and scattered debris that my mother considered far too dangerous for a young boy to roam around in. But when nobody was about, I did play there. Aside from the boxing equipment, it was also a space to store the paraphernalia of undertaking, a sideline my father began but never managed to shake off. For me and my siblings, death was a part of our day-to-day lives. Shrouds and coffins, boxing gloves, headguards and casket handles became our adventure playground. In her book, Anna mentions an altercation from her youth when a kindly nurse explained that it’s best to keep away when men are fighting ‘because they don’t know what they are doing.’ An article in this month’s issue with Sunday Times foreign correspondent, Christina Lamb, left me wondering if women might fight with more depth. A veteran of 38 years of reporting on conflict around the globe, Christina bemoaned the fact that there are few, if any, women around the tables of conflict resolution. She suggests that if there were more women involved in government, we would have fewer wars, and if women were involved in negotiating peace, it might have more depth. With the current display of belligerent posturing on the world stage creating ever more instability, it does seem worth a try.
