Silence in the Square 2010
An early night after not sleeping on the coach, I slept through breakfast and barely caught a group headed toward Trafalgar Square.
Today is Armistice Day. Every single town in Britain, Ireland, France (and most likely Germany, though I haven't been there) have a monument to remember the devastating death toll mounted on a pointless war that staged nearly 100 years ago. Today, the eleventh of the eleventh, at eleven o'clock, they hold a two-minute moment of silence across London. Before the silence, however, we got to hear from London's Community Gospel Choir ("Now That We've Found Love"), Prince Caspian read some poetry from the Somme, and the Saturdays (no idea). A bugle started the silence. I stood bracketed between umbrellas and saw myself on the giant screen more times than I could count, trying to see the darn stage (bit short) through rain-spattered glasses.
After the daft announcer had finished trying to talk to some guy in another country, the blessed moment of silence began. It was really moving, actually; all our moments in class about the injured, the poetry, the loss of innocence, the modern art and questions why this all happened came out as the city around us fell silent. The taxis, ambulances, and tourists didn't let out a sound. Even the pigeons stayed quiet. All we could hear were the resonant gongs from Big Ben, telling us it was eleven o'clock. I thought about how that clock impacted this whole city--not many could actually see the tower, but Big Ben can be heard across the Thames. It's absence is still acknowledged in its time keep; for all those who fell, we have each anniversary of this Armistice Day, gonging across the nation like Big Ben, reminding us of the absence that really isn't.
The silence ended and we were all encouraged to take poppies from the nearby soldiers and toss them into the fountains, in remembrance of the dead and those who still fight for British freedom. The Poppy Appeal began several weeks ago and sells little plastic poppies to the public for a donation to the British Legion. (Naturally I'm all out of change whenever these Appealers manifest themselves.) Their target this year is 36 million pounds (31.2 million last year). I love the visual of the poppy; it reminds us of the poem In Flanders' Fields, they grow where blood has been shed and the earth turned up, turning from white to red, the fruit of opium to make us all forget what happened. But in London, every single jacket lapel has a poppy stuck to it, and probably will for the next week or so.
An early night after not sleeping on the coach, I slept through breakfast and barely caught a group headed toward Trafalgar Square.
Today is Armistice Day. Every single town in Britain, Ireland, France (and most likely Germany, though I haven't been there) have a monument to remember the devastating death toll mounted on a pointless war that staged nearly 100 years ago. Today, the eleventh of the eleventh, at eleven o'clock, they hold a two-minute moment of silence across London. Before the silence, however, we got to hear from London's Community Gospel Choir ("Now That We've Found Love"), Prince Caspian read some poetry from the Somme, and the Saturdays (no idea). A bugle started the silence. I stood bracketed between umbrellas and saw myself on the giant screen more times than I could count, trying to see the darn stage (bit short) through rain-spattered glasses.
After the daft announcer had finished trying to talk to some guy in another country, the blessed moment of silence began. It was really moving, actually; all our moments in class about the injured, the poetry, the loss of innocence, the modern art and questions why this all happened came out as the city around us fell silent. The taxis, ambulances, and tourists didn't let out a sound. Even the pigeons stayed quiet. All we could hear were the resonant gongs from Big Ben, telling us it was eleven o'clock. I thought about how that clock impacted this whole city--not many could actually see the tower, but Big Ben can be heard across the Thames. It's absence is still acknowledged in its time keep; for all those who fell, we have each anniversary of this Armistice Day, gonging across the nation like Big Ben, reminding us of the absence that really isn't.
The silence ended and we were all encouraged to take poppies from the nearby soldiers and toss them into the fountains, in remembrance of the dead and those who still fight for British freedom. The Poppy Appeal began several weeks ago and sells little plastic poppies to the public for a donation to the British Legion. (Naturally I'm all out of change whenever these Appealers manifest themselves.) Their target this year is 36 million pounds (31.2 million last year). I love the visual of the poppy; it reminds us of the poem In Flanders' Fields, they grow where blood has been shed and the earth turned up, turning from white to red, the fruit of opium to make us all forget what happened. But in London, every single jacket lapel has a poppy stuck to it, and probably will for the next week or so.
A Homeworking Afternoon
Field Studies are the bane of my existence. After the lovely morning in the square, I had to barricade myself in the Science Museum, which should have been fun, except that once again I was forced to look at implements used in Jane Austen's day, this time for medical purposes. I saw hack saws, bowls for bleeding, disturbing strait jackets, bottles of ointment, contraceptives, and inoculation kits. I'm so glad we live now, can I just say? I wonder what people in developing countries do. Mum has a friend who works in Africa and teaches quilting there, and she talks about the villages; a baby will get diarrhea, and the women thinks the baby has gotten too much to drink--they stop the baby drinking, and the baby dies. The fabrics teacher told them to give the baby more water, and the infant mortality has dropped. Amazing how we can change the world! Darwin would have survived, except the doctors got to him first. After seeing the crazy tools and lack of anaesthesia, I'm pretty sure I would have died on the table.
I left the girls back in the family history centre (they were off to the British Museum, and I really have a quota for visiting museums) and headed back to Circle Line. Unbeknownst to me, I wouldn't actually be able to make it back on Circle OR District lines. But until then, I loved being in Earl's Court and watching the rain hit the greenhousey roof, taking a turn for the torrential and pounding it in sheets of watery bullets. The train pulled in and looked like a tub overflowing, water spilling over the sides like a white washboard. How I love London! (How safe I was underground.)
After so much considering Emma, of course I came home and watched Clueless. After some well-earned pad thai, of course (no breakfast, I was so excited to eat by 3pm.) Then off to my Stake Interview after a measly bit of homework, mission papers in hand. I'm pleased to announce that I passed with flying colors and in a moment of enthusiasm, and since I was already on Picadilly Line, I decided to pop on over to Leicester Square to see how the premier was going.
Dan Rad and Co.
It was about 7pm when I left the Tube. Leicester was full of Potter fans and shenanigans handing out flyers. There was a monster screen like in Trafalgar (three, actually), except this time the daft announcer was interviewing Neville Longbottom. He is one good-looking guy now, given his awkward beginnings. The park where my BYU comrades were currently fenced in had two stages, sweeping search and can lights, banners of Voldemort blowing in the cold
I ran to the fence in front of the Casino (where the film would actually show), and tried to bustle my way to the front. Unable to keep my excitement to myself, I started talking to some sophomores next to me, each decked out in Hogwarts crests and scarves--they'd run from school and arrived about 5 o'clock and were torn between flailing to get a glimpse of the stars and wanting to pound their teachers for not letting them skip altogether. I saw the red hair of Rupert Grint descending the red carpet ramp to sign autographs and cheered so loud I felt my throat seize up. After him came Neville, Harry, Draco, Lucius, Luna, Ginny, Hermione, Dumbledore, Dobby (pretty sure I missed Ralph Fiennes), and Fred and George. This was all from about twenty feet away, but we still go ballistic when the little character from the TV box is actually a human being.
According to the other students (they'd camped out at 3am, dressed like dementors in their garbage sacks, holding signs that say "WE CAME FROM AMERICA TO KISS HARRY POTTER". They had a great time getting interviewed and getting awesome seats and so forth--Amanda's life was fulfilled when Daniel came out and was within arm's reach. (He nodded at their posters, and was flattered they came all the way from Vegas). After a fan interview, I had to say goodbye to my cute high school friends and go back to the Centre where these crazed girls would soon descend, telling their adrenalined stories. What a night had by all! Me and Brianna hid upstairs to avoid the rush.
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