‘It’s good to talk, so why the radio silence?’
Ulrika! LIFE WITH
This month… best columnist Ulrika Jonsson muses on the art of staying in touch, and the ‘mind-games’ it sometimes involves…
Communication. We all need it, and never has there been a time when we’ve needed it more than during this pandemic. Out of reach and out of physical touch of the people we know, love or work with, electronic or telephonic or even written communication has been the order of the day. It’s been crucial to us all and it’s no exaggeration to say it has essentially been our saviour, and the saver of lives.
I had just acquired a new mobile at the beginning of the first lockdown a year ago – (note: I’m not into fancy phones and upgrade reluctantly, and only when said object is on its last legs). But it was time for a new one and my daughter took charge of moving data from my old phone to the new one.
For some reason, it didn’t work. I seized the old phone; held it close to my chest, refusing to let it go. Could you imagine a lockdown during a global pandemic with no mobile? No, me neither.
My phone has been my friend; a good and bad distraction; the font of all my knowledge; my window on the outside world and I would panic without it.
But I still fail to entirely grasp people’s differing rhythms when it comes to communicating. Many
people are marvellous and stay in touch; respond; initiate. But there is a group – is it a type? – of people who show utter disregard to the unwritten rules of messaging (in particular, of instant messaging) and not only lack in continuity but also seem to be utterly absent at times in a way I cannot seem to reason.
I’m not a needy person; I don’t feel desperate; I don’t hang on someone’s every word. I do expect honesty and courtesy, though. And, I have to confess, there may be the odd occasion when I have been slow to respond – or life has got in the way; or my menopausal brain thinks I have responded but I haven’t. These are odd occasions and exceptions to the rule. Someone messages you, you respond.
I would jump to the ghastly conclusion and say it’s a man/woman thing. That women are in possession of a greater sense of responsibility and duty that they show themselves to be much more reliable. Initially, I thought this might be so. I’ve had some communications with younger men and it’s the absolute truth that they message to the beat of an entirely different drum to me. They can see messages and not respond. Yes, who hasn’t been left on ‘read’ at some point of their adult life? What adds insult to injury is that, when they do respond and you might be delayed in your response to their response, they won’t hesitate to question why you took so long…
But I realise it has nothing to do with the gender, of course it doesn’t. My 16-yearold daughter will only reply if it suits her. My sister in Sweden means absolutely no harm, but will do it when she feels she has time. Equally, my 20-year-old daughter will respond immediately and so will my 26-year-old son.
It’s just hard to not judge people by your own magnificent standards. And silence always brings about procrastination and mind games – what have I said; what have I done; what has happened?
The issue is not really that people are slow in responding.
It is that we expect instant gratification at all times in all aspects of our lives. And because we know we can have it, we expect it furthermore.
It’s the unsettling true story of Augusta Victoria College – a finishing school in Bexhill-on-Sea, East Sussex, that ran from 1932 to 1939. The daughters of top Nazis, including the goddaughter of Heinrich Himmler and Bettina Von Ribbentrop, the daughter of Hitler’s foreign minister, were sent to England to improve their language skills and enter British society. But when it became clear that England would stand against Germany and not, as the High Command had hoped, with Hitler – the girls were forced to flee. Eddie Izzard, who recently announced a preference for female pronouns, tells us why she brought this story to the screen…
Hi Eddie, Six Minutes to Midnight, why the title? Look up The Doomsday Clock, it’s designed to warn us how close we are to destroying the world. It was the Summer of 1939 and a clock was ticking towards the explosion set for 12. It could have been five minutes to midnight, but six just sounded good…
You were shown an image of the school’s badge – featuring a Union Jack and a swastika – by the curator of the Bexhill Museum. Truth is stranger than fiction, isn’t it?
Yes. Around 20 girls (the wealthy relatives of the High Command) spent seven years in England, but a lot of the film spins out of our imagination. I just saw the badge and thought – well, there’s a film in that.
How much of the story is true?
Well, we know the girls came here. And we know for certain they listened to Hitler’s speeches and made the Nazi salute to the radio, because there were witnesses.
Is the college, a beautiful Victorian villa, still standing?
128 Dorset Road is now flats, but those people own a little piece of history.
Tell us about Thomas Miller, the half-German/ half-English language teacher that you play…
He is almost like an audience member looking at everything – it is like he can see the world is about to fall apart. He can see a tragedy unfolding and he thinks if he can save even one girl in the battle for hearts of minds, it will be worth it.
What must it have been like to be a German child in the Thirties?
My worry is what would I have done, if I was told everyone has to be Aryan. ‘ We are going to make your country great’ – would I have gone with it? Would I have signed up? As an adult, hopefully not – but as a child… The idea that any country is so great others should be enslaved to it – it was a nonsense, an insanity. Hitler kidnapped the country for 12 years – and 60 million people died as a result.
The bus driver payed by Jim Broadbent is based on your grandfather, isn’t he?
Yes! Charlie the bus driver who lived in Sidley with my grandmother – well, sometimes. Turns out, he had a woman he was seeing in London, too. Charles Harold Izzard was a very dapper dresser – too young for the first war, too old for the second one.
Dame Judi Dench, the school governess, only came on board two weeks before filming, didn’t she?
Yes – Judi and the most beautiful weather in the world came to join us just in time. Her character is like someone who went to the 1936 Olympics and saw the Germans as very nice people – but underneath it all she knows something is wrong.
The girls themselves are played by young actresses you cast in Berlin…
Yes, these days a lot of the German youth have great English. One day, I performed a 45-minute show to them in German. They sat under a tree near the school and it was amazing.
This is your first film script, isn’t it?
This happens to be the first one but it’s certainly not the last. I want to tell as many stories as I can.
What do you want people to take from watching it?
Those who do not learn from history are doomed to repeat it.