Friar Cous Cous

Trussed-up in a wartime bandage-suit...

Thursday, September 08, 2005

In Foreign Fields Remembered

My arch-uncle went to his premature death knee-deep in the mud of the Somme during a vicious battlefield tour in nineteen eighty-seven. His poetry was all we had left by which to remember him, and I believe that this was the very last piece he ever committed to paper…

Breakfast: 8:15 a.m
Coach trip to Thiepval: 9.30 a.m.
Lunch: 12.30 p.m.
Tour of 1916 Minefield Site: 1.30 p.m.
Tea: 3.30 p.m.
Pozieres Museum Tour: 3:45 p.m.
Back to hotel: 5.30 p.m.
Dinner: 8.00 p.m.
Drinks: 9.30 p.m. till late

Try as I might to string together his allegorical connections, I keep on coming up against a brick wall. How can I ever truly understand his unique experiences? But as I read his words in tearful memory, I think it says so much about the way he promised to live his life.

1 Comments:

Blogger Dolby said...

The Pozieeres Musieum Tour does not start until 4.45pm making it impossible for him to keep to this schedule. He was late, he is dead.

10:20 am  

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