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There will be a third chapter of Ginger in due course when Peter and Pixel the Cat have had a go at it. Chapter four is, well, stuck. I expect I'll find a way forward eventually. In the meantime I have another Devastation Diary entry pending. To followers of the series, if you're into lactation, look forward to 'Dairy Farm'. As usual, though, my male protagonists are not sadists.
Ted
Every year, in the Autumn, boxes appear on shop and cafe counters, containing paper and plastic red poppies. Sometimes there are much larger, plastic poppies, intended for the grills of cars and trucks. Why?
In 1918, the gunfire finally ended in an armistice negotiated between Germany and her allies and Britain, America, and their allies. With the benefit of hindsight, the humiliating agreement – forced on Germany at Versaille – held the seeds of the second World War, But hindsight is always 20/20. The toll in death and disability was appalling, and a fund was set up; the Haig Fund, intended to support veterans.
For years, at eleven o’clock, on the eleventh day of the eleventh month, Britain came to a standstill for two minutes. Everything stopped. The fallen were honoured, both by that silence, and the wearing of a paper, red, poppy; the proceeds from the ‘sale’ of the poppies going to the Haig Fund, later the British Legion, nowadays the Royal British Legion.
As the Great War became history, the ‘Armistice Day’ became ‘Remembrance Sunday’ on the Sunday nearest the eleventh. Dare I suggest that’s because stopping for two minutes during the working week was too much disruption to industry?
In passing, let me touch on ‘conscientious objectors’, who refused to fight, were accused of cowardice, and forced to work in dangerous and unpleasant, but necessary occupations if they were not imprisoned. There was a time when some commemorated the ‘conshies’ by the wearing of white poppies, but that seems to have subsided.
Just as there was a pacifist movement in Britain between the two world wars, so another grew among the younger generation after the second World War, most of whom had no experience of war. Sure, Britain was involved in Korea and Suez, amongst other places, but all at a remove. The government establishments, particularly at Aldermaston and Porton Down, were marched to and picketed. The opposition to nuclear, chemical and biological weapons is certainly understandable, but anyone who has been bullied knows that it is necessary to stand up to said bully. I believe the same applies to nations.
These days, I have a crocheted poppy which pins to my outer-wear, and I send a donation to RBL. As I get older, the importance of caring for our veterans seems to grow in my mind. Reinforced in my case by passing almost every day in the park, a memorial to the crew of the B17 ‘Mi Amigo’. That aircraft crashed in the park in 1944 with the loss of all the crew. The pilot avoided children playing in the park, but was unable to avoid a tree-covered slope past the open area. One of those children cares for the memorial several days a week, sweeping and tidying...
Well, I've fixed the gutter. Four days of work on ladders. We had a few days of predicted dry weather, which actually happened. I think this is the last time I set out to do any home maintenance using ladders - standing fifteen feet off the ground with my head spinning is... disconcerting, and I know my balance isn't all it used to be. Still, I remembered the sailing motto... 'one hand for you and one for the ship'... and used at least one except when I was able to perch. Working one-handed is not very efficient. But it's done and the three last gutters are much less demanding; I ought to manage those with a step-ladder. Now this is out of the way I can allow myself some time off. Right now I'm cat-sitting for my son in Maldon, which makes a nice change of scenery. Once I'm home again I'm hoping to get Oscar out of the garage for a day out. I might even get to finish 'Dulcie and the Witch' if my muse permits.
Ted
While much of Europe and other parts of the Northern Hemisphere bake and burn, here in Britain we're north of the jetstream and enjoying a succession of depressions bringing rain and below average temperatures. I am supposed to be replacing a defective gutter on the side of my house, but that involves removing several courses of slate, which I don't want to do with the prospect of rain. I could be writing, but my muse seems to think it's holiday time. However, I've just spent a couple of hours listening to LPs. Beatles. Moody Blues. Seekers. Abba. I like Abba - so sue me. But to my loyal readers, I'm sorry my output is way down. I think there's a possibility of Dulcie having an interesting encounter with a witch, but not what you might expect. I mean, she's not exactly conventional, is she? Best wishes, everyone.
Ted
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