Charlie Cochrane - Mysteries with a dash of slash, romances with just a pinch of spice

No, I haven't got my chronology wrong, nor my geography. Agincourt isn't far from the River Somme so to set Shakespeare's play in WWI has a certain poignant logic to it. We've just booked our tickets for the Antic Disposition tour (thanks to HNS for the heads up).

I actually meant to blog today about the pilot/s who inspired Biggles, but in a stroke of serendipity I happened to use a memory stick and found some pictures from last year's holiday on it. A memorial that reminds us - as if we need it - of the waste of youthful life, and lots of fun stuff from historical re-enactors, giving us a taste of soldiers' daily lives.

Please forgive me if I've posted this before. I've been trying to find video of Russell Tovey as Tubby Clayton from the Passchendaele 100 events, without luck. So have the wonderful Alfie Boe instead.

And they fit together beautifully again. This lovely little video (yes, it's an advert but it's lovely none the less) inspired my story "Got mittens" for the Rainbow Advent Calendar. I'll be posting that on Friday, but in the meantime...

Today we remember.

War is harsh, brutal, not glorious - but in this imperfect world sometimes it is the only option left. It pulls in men and women (and dogs and horses) who in other circumstances would never have raised a hand to another person, it asks of them great courage and great humility. Please God none of us will have the same asked of us.

To mark today, I offer simply this poem. A poor thing but mine own.

It will not be the same

It will not be the same for us as for other lovers.
There’ll be no babe born when you’re nine months absent,
Six of them maybe spent under cold clay.
Nor will I share your picture with the men.
They’ll say, “This is Mary.
And young Tom.”
We’ll smile and say he’s the image of his dad.
“This is my Dora. We’ll be wed, soon as I’m home.”
We’ll toast them with watery tea, trying not to show
We don’t believe he’ll ever get back.
They’ll never hear,
“This is my Freddie. Isn’t he a peach?”
And yet our blood is just as red
And it’ll flow just as freely when the bullets fly
We’ll give our lives the same
For our country
For our families
For the sake of those who condemn us and want us dead
We’ll die to keep them safe,
Not to satisfy a god they’ve made in their own image.
It will not be the same for us as for other lovers.
But you are no less a man because of me
And I am not diminished because of you.

Apologies that this is a day later than usual, but yesterday got eaten up with a board meeting and meeting a school inspector.

I love the way that so many of the commemorative events for WWI beautifully combine the old and the new. This video installation in Wales to remember Hedd Wyn looks stunning. It reminds me of the terribly moving Passchendaele events.

14-18 Now are the people behind the 'living' Somme commemoration that made such a powerful statement last year. Their excellent website lists where you can see the 'waves' and 'weeping windows' of poppies. They are always dreaming up new ways of making the past relevant now so keep dropping in to see what's new.

We stopped for coffee at Wareham today, then went for a walk. I saw the Commonwealth war Graves Commission sign...

 

 

When I woke this morning, almost the first thing I thought of was Edgar Mobbs. He died at the third battle of Ypres (Passchendaele) one hundred years ago today. "Even as he lay dying, he scribbled out the machine gun post’s map reference for HQ to eliminate it, asked for reinforcements, and finally added: “Am seriously wounded”.

There's still disagreement about how many - on both sides - died in this battle, and while Edgar Mobbs was just one, for me he represents all those aspirations and possibilities  cut off in their prime. Another casualty on this day was Hedd Wyn, the Welsh bard. War does not discriminate.

Have seen a couple of wild flower patches recently in which both the poppies and the cornflowers have been stunning. It was only last year I discovered that the cornflower was the French remembrance equivalent of our poppy, but now every time I see them together, I'm moved. These are from Jersey zoo.