Remembrance - and other things...

[curiouswombat]

As well as taking part in a Remembrance service at church this morning I also watched some of the programme from the Royal Albert Hall last night, and from the Cenotaph today, as I am sure many of my FL did.

As always, the moment when the poppy petals slowly drift down into the still silence in the Albert Hall, made me cry. Each of those poppy petals a life lost in war; piling up in the aisles, landing on the flat white tops of the caps of the sailors, and on the elaborate headdresses of some of the QAs and the PMs (The army, navy and air-force nursing services)...

Then the march past the Cenotaph - old, old men and women, a small boy wearing his grandfather's medals, the girl carrying, not a poppy wreath, but one of bright yellow flowers...

But the thing that brought the biggest lump to my throat today is this tribute to her uncle written by virtuella. If you read anything written in memorium this evening, read that.

Under the cut are a couple totally unrelated pictures -

Shaka likes to sit on the cushions on the settee and cover them in cat-hair - preferably a good coating of black hair on the cream covers. Generally he is not keen on anything meant to be sat on by a cat.

But when I went to the garage for petrol the other week they were selling 'Pet Pads' for only £5.50 - and it did look very cuddly.

So, I bought one, put it on the settee amongst the cushions, and told him not to sit on it and get hair on it. Result...



And sometimes...



And the cream cushion covers are still cream almost three weeks later!

Hopefully, eventually, if I put it on the floor at any time, he'll follow it.


Also - I am slowly writing the story that demanded me to do it... but it is painful, it also brings tears to my eyes and a lump to my throat; writing it is almost like drawing teeth...

Comments

[hobbituk.livejournal.com]

I too always cry at the service when the poppies come down. Oh, who am I kidding? I cry all through it. The minute the military bands strike up I cry. Playing the last post? I cry. And moving onto today, the part in the marchpast at the cenotaph where the men (and women) from St Dunstans turn their unseeing eyes right? I can cry just thinking about it.

This year I also managed to embarrass myself completely at the two minute silence on the 11th, (which is always observed on the Town Hall steps) because two elderly gentlemen complete with medals and red berets stood to attention as the bugle played and saluted.

I do appreciate their sacrifice. And it's just so painfully sad that these often very young men are still dying, only this time for a reason that is not clear, not easy to understand. They aren't dying to make the world safer for their own loved ones, but more to fulfil a political end. :(

[curiouswombat.livejournal.com]

And it's just so painfully sad that these often very young men are still dying, only this time for a reason that is not clear, not easy to understand. They aren't dying to make the world safer for their own loved ones, but more to fulfil a political end. :(

Sadly you are all too correct, I think.