Thursday, 18 December 2014

The Breath of Loved Ones

Sometimes it hits home. The first church of the day for Mr. Many Coats and I was All Saints, Horsford. It was a murky morning with smudgy skies and a tang of wood smoke in the air. I made my way through the churchyard gate and walked slowly towards the church. And then I saw this monument commemorating the fallen men from the village; lads who perished during the carnage of the First World War... more than just names on a cold marble monument though - names once spoken, warm on the breath of loved ones, 'Will, Tom, Harry, Reg, Fred, Bert...' 

Standing still and reflecting a while, I feel the terrible loss. It makes me savour the privilege of a day to come exploring things I love. 

Lives of the First World War


  1. Among their many shades of meaning, churches are repositories of communal memory

  2. Joanne,

    I think the answer to that one is, 'politicians'