Poppies

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I took a girl friend today to see the poppies.

For those who don't know, the veterans in this country set up a charity called the British Legion, who do their best to look after the wreckage left by war, whether it involves the veterans themselves or their families. Each year, as Remembrance Sunday/Armistice Day approaches, there is the poppy appeal. Paper or enamel poppy badges are sold to raise money for the charity.

This year being the centenary of the descent into horror and madness that was WWI, there was a particular event. The dry moat of the White Tower (Tower of London) has gradually filled with ceramic red poppies, until there is one for every poor soul from this country who died in the conflict. It is like a river of blood. At sunset this evening, I heard part of the roll call.

Every name. "Private x. Royal x regiment. Private y. Y regiment. Name after name after name.

And we still haven't learnt better.

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