A month since I last posted, my thoughts, like this telephone box could do with a bit of weeding. It’s happened before, so I know the first post after a break is the hardest, I just need to get in the groove again.
I went to our local park today, to the war memorial where there was a service to commemorate the anniversary of the first day of the battle of the Somme.
I have to say the blowing of a whistle at the start of the service, chilled my blood. What a thought, that 19,420 lives were lost that day.
The park was built as a memorial to those who lost their lives during World War I, and during the two minutes silence I was struck by the sweet scent of roses drifting up from the flower beds and the bird song from the surrounding, and now mighty trees. I could pick out the cheeky chatter of long tailed tits
Birdsong must have been the last thing the soldiers heard before the guns
In Somecourt Wood, in Somecourt Wood,
We bivouacked and slept the night,
The nightingales sang the same
As they had sung before we came.
‘Mid leaf and branch and song and light
And falling dew and watching star.
And all the million things which are
About us and above us took
No more regard of us than
We take in some small midge’s span
Of life, albeit our gunfire shook
The very air in Somecourt Wood.
It was very moving, and I don’t think had I seen these ‘ghost soldiers’ today, moving speechlessly through our cities, each one simply carrying a card with the name and age of a soldier they represented. I could have helped but shed a tear. What a powerful piece of art.
I’ve a string of posts to deliver, I’m behind schedule, I’ve been distracted; they are going to tumble out randomly, it seems to match the mood of the nation!
You’d be hard pressed to call where I live a street, but it didn’t stop us having a street party to celebrate the Queens 90th Birthday a few weeks ago.
There were a lot of planning meetings (Mr Uphilldowndale will tell you what I mean by this, is that there was a lot of drinking of prosecco on Sunday afternoons for the previous month) I’ll tell you the planning was just as sociable as the party. We then went on holiday and left the neighbours to all the hard work, arriving back in time for the sound of popping corks. They did a fab job, we had music, flowers, porta-loos, road closed signs, bollards and bunting, a proper party.
We even had very official notices to close the road, who could resist a throning of neighbours?
We didn’t divert any carts as far as we know, a few cyclists and a couple of walkers meandered through the tables, most took the diversion in good heart.
We brought out the finest vintage food (the ‘food miles’ of some of it could be measured in inches rather than miles)
Ate proper pie (Yorkshire pie, brought over the county boundary under special licence).
I may have mentioned the prosecco before
So many cakes
and a few gate crashers.
We raised money for charity too, we are very lucky to have such lovely neighbours…
As a friend put it on Friday, in the wake of the EU referendum results ‘I’m experiencing emotions I can’t name, I certainly haven’t felt them before’.
Politics isn’t something I’d normally mention here, but the referendum and decision for the UK to leave the EU is to big to walk on by. I’m gutted. Horrified. Sad and bitterly disappointed for my boys. A few of those unidentifiable emotions my friend mentioned are swilling around in the mix too.
A conversation I overheard, seemed to me, to capture the fact that many folk hadn’t got a handle on the chain of events voting ‘leave’ would set in motion.
Second women. ‘Oh my god, you’d think it was the end of the world, all we did was put a cross in a box on a bit of paper!’
I wasn’t sure if to laugh or cry, so I just stood in front of the newspaper stand in crushing bewilderment.
Mr Uphilldowndale and I were set to go to Loweswater, in Cumbria on Friday, in preparation for Daz’s Memorial fell race. We didn’t like going and leaving Joe home alone, he’d been up all night watching the results come in and was as down as we were; but Spud the dog stayed at home to keep him company, as ironically Tom is away, in Europe, working (we cast a proxy vote on his behalf).
We stopped by at Dodds Wood and climbed up to the viewing point to see the osprey’s this and a walk in the woods did us good and soothed our souls a little.
The next day I had chance to contemplate the hills and some of the many emotional events of the last few weeks, and some of those emotions spilt out. The sheep was my confidante .
What more can I say.
I’ve been enjoying the multitude of birds coming to the feeder, something to brighten very grey, wet, bedraggled days.
Whilst perhaps not enough finches to describe them as a charm, certainly enough to lift the spirits.
When we did our recent building project, I came under pressure to cut this tree down,
‘Its in the way of the view’ they said. ‘No, it is part of the view’ I said.
Jammy and Dodger the cat haven’t been paying much attention to the birds, under floor heating and Spuds bed is obviously a more attractive option.
I found the image above in the box of family photos. It’s not named, which is rather sad.
I do know the name of this young man, but nothing about his uniform and medal. Can any readers help me?
Here he is again, a man now and looking rather dashing.
I went down to the service at the war memorial on Sunday, I’d not been able to go for the last couple of years. It was sad to note that the WWII two veterans were not there. Suddenly, it seems, there has been passing of a generation. I missed them; but I’ll not forget them, we will remember them.