Remembering the Poppies

It's 11th November, the traditional Remembrance Day, and we are pleased to publish this timely remembrance of a special day by Judy Evans.

Memories of The Tower Of London Poppies

Last year my husband and I made a last minute 'now or never' decision to see the installation of poppies at the Tower of London, ' 'Blood Swept Lands And Seas Of Red'.

Off we dashed on the very last weekend of the display. Staying Friday night at a cheap airport hotel in Slough, we caught the train into central London from Wraysbury Station, on this dreary, drizzling, November morning.

To say London was busy that Saturday was an understatement! Numbers boosted no doubt by our first unexpected delight – an armed services parade, taking place along the banks of the Thames.

Slowly we made our way through the packed streets to the Tower, only to be met by an ocean of people, completely engulfing every walk way in, out and around it. We eventually made our way through the crowds towards the perimeter walls, to see the star attraction – the sea of poppies.

It was indeed the most magical sight, with an atmosphere as electric as the colours, which contrasted brightly against the dullness of the weather. The symbolism was simple and moving.

It took over an hour to 'negotiate' a complete 'once round' tour of the Tower's crimson carpet. We then left for a pre-planned platform viewing from the top of The Shard, located on the opposite bank of the river.

My personal assessment of this expensive high rise experience? – it was only the breathtaking view of the temporary 'red river' weaving around The Tower of London, that made this attraction anything remotely worth the money!

Finishing our sightseeing from The Shard, we hurried back over the river, to take one final 'close up' view of the mesmerising clay display. Talk about 'opium for the masses' – its addictive like effect – we were so drawn to it, to simply gaze, and to absorb its message without words. What was it about this artwork that made it so compelling?

Despite increasing drizzle and dimming light, the crowds had by now swelled even further; the atmosphere building, until the final notes of the Last Post bugler faded in the night air.

Judy Evans

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