THE TWENTY-EIGHTH
‘Karcer? A hole? What sort of hole? You ever been in a hole like that?’
‘Nope. I only know the word from old German books about these boarding schools. Students there were subjected to arbitrary, disciplinary punishments, which were to transform young boys into good, proper Germans. One of these was the hole. I imagine it like a cold, dark Zimmer with condensation dripping from the ceiling, where a frightened boy in a thin nightshirt is lying on a bare cot, chattering his teeth, being punished for writing a letter without prior permission or jumping the fence for a date with a servant girl. “Fourteen days in the Hole! That’ll give you some time to think over what you did…”’
‘That’s more or less how I imagine state homes to be. I was nearly sent off to one once, when my
