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.


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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