I
stood still. I was getting a casserole ready, had a chopping board full of root
vegetables and the Rayburn lit ready. I was checking the clock for the eleventh
hour of the eleventh day of the eleventh month. I had the iron pot warming on
the coal lit stove. The hands on the clock said it is time to be still.
The First Two Minute Silence in London (11th
November 1919) as reported in the Manchester Guardian, 12th November 1919.
'The first stroke of eleven produced a
magical effect.
The tram cars glided into stillness,
motors ceased to cough and fume, and stopped dead, and the mighty-limbed dray
horses hunched back upon their loads and stopped also, seeming to do it of
their own volition.
Someone took off his hat, and with a nervous hesitancy
the rest of the men bowed their heads also. Here and there an old soldier could
be detected slipping unconsciously into the posture of 'attention'. An elderly
woman, not far away, wiped her eyes, and the man beside her looked white and
stern. Everyone stood very still ... The hush deepened. It had spread over the
whole city and become so pronounced as to impress one with a sense of
audibility. It was a silence which was almost pain ... And the spirit of memory
brooded over it all.'
Comments
When I moved to Canada, I was immediately impressed with how much more seriously folks take Remembrance Day over here. Something of that hush still descends on towns here, as crowds gather around cenotaphs each year to pay their respects.
Mr Botanist: It's the shared experience that makes it so compelling and I hope the tradition keeps going.
Christine: Thinking of what our grandparents survived is a strong inspiration indeed.
Thank you all for reading and sharing :-)