I don't know if it's the worst thing about me or not, but when I'm at my mother's house I nap best when watching a British documentary in the end room. I know it's reductive to say "British" rather than giving each country its rightful acknowledgment, but usually it's Simon Schama's History of Britain, so I don't think I'm being too unkind. Other favourites include 1914-18 (released internationally as The Great War and the Shaping of the 20th Century) and The People's Century.
Why, though?
The past is comforting. To know that all of these horrible things happened, to trace their origins and to look at the ramifications for the world we live in now. But why does a grown-up get to sleep better listening to stories of mustard gas and shell-shock?
It makes me feel safe. Mostly because I know I'm not there, because it highlights my own comfort and comparative luxury. Because, I know that tomorrow I will wake up, and everything will probably still be here. Worse things have happened. And so in chaos I find a rare solace; in its distance if nothing else.
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