Danny Boyle, renowned film maker and creator of the London Olympics opening ceremony turned his eyes to the sea for this special commemoration. In various locations through the United Kingdom images were created in the sand of people who'd died during the first world war, each location having a person local to it. so the woman commemorated on Swansea Beach was Dorothy Mary Watson, a 18-year-old munitions worker who was killed, along with another young woman, in an explosion at the factory.
One time Poet Laureate, Carol Ann Duffy wrote a poem, The Wound in Time, that was available to listen to on head-sets, was printed on the back of all the postcards and was read at the final ceremony of the day.
As well as that lots of different events and activities were taking place, in Swansea, in and around the Civic Centre and Waterfront museum.
I had a ball! And learned a lot.
I made a poppy, listened to a talk about the first world war (about which I am amazingly ignorant), tried my hand at black-out poetry, wandered in among the sand-raked figures and saw the Emergency Doctor who gave me a prescription of poetry. I didn't make a flag because they'd run out of sticks, I didn't sew - because I don't - and I wasn't able to stay until the end to see Dorothy's image revealed - and then washed away by the sea - but it was all so fab. Huge thanks and well done to all those involved in the organisation.
The first cabin I went into had a display on the wall of some of the postcards remembering Welsh dead. One of the first I looked at had my surname! That morning Husband and I had been discussing how neither of us knew of any close relatives killed in the first world war. My grandfather had a bullet that went straight through him that he survived but tat seems to have been the closest we came. I don't think this young man is any relation of Husband's (who's from Derby in the Midlands) but it was interesting to see.
The man giving the talk had the bearing of a soldier but was an actor. I didn't know that the 'trenches' went on for 400 miles or the exact cause of the first world war. Actually I don't think anyone is absolutely sure what happened as it all seemed to get out of control during the august when countries left, right and centre were joining in, including Japan (?). Of course I had to have a go at lifting the rifle and I now have new respect for Corporal Jones.
Helmets couldn't protect from a direct hit. This helmet belonged to the man who was a neighbour of the speaker's gran (did you follow that?) and he survived as the bullet that went through his helmet only skidded his skull. And I'm not sure that even Izal could guard against the kind of infection that would have been rife in the flooded trenches.
The Emergency Poetry ambulance had a doctor in residence who was offering 10-minute consultations and individually prescribed poems. I leapt at the chance.
She said, because I was such a severe case, she would prescribe three poems: Postscript by Seamus Heaney, Grace by Esther Morgan and Mary Anne Sailor's dream of the Garden of Eden from Under Milk Wood by Dylan Thomas. To be taken with a pot of tea, sitting in a light place, listening to birdsong.
If you didn't have time for a consultation you could take a capsule from one of the appropriately labelled bottles.
Members of the public were encouraged to do their own silhouette in memory of a family member or friend.
I met a couple form Northern Ireland. The man did this image of Edmund de Wind using his umbrella. His grandfather knew the soldier and the man himself was named Edmund after him. Edmund de Wind was born in County Down in Ireland and was awarded the Victoria Cross posthumously for bravery.
Do you remember Nuora, GrandSon4 and I decorated plates a few weeks ago? They were on display in this mobile exhibition centre.
The poppy I made.
I'll finish with a few lines from The Wound in Time by Carol Ann Duffy.
What happened next?
War. And after that? War. And now? War. War.
History might as well be water, chastising this shore;
for we learn nothing from your endless sacrifice.
Your faces drowning in the pages of the sea.
4 comments:
I absolutely love the idea of the Emergency Poetry Ambulance! It will be interesting to see who is appointed as Carol Anne Duffy's successor.
Grandpa never talked about the First World War really, just enough to let us know that it wasn't an adventure any of them ever wanted to go through again.
I think the Pages of the Sea events were such an apt, symbolic way of remembering and paying tribute; how special that you were able to attend one. I think drawing is cathartic, and seeing things drawn washed away is so poignant. What a lucky escape for the person wearing the helmet. I like the poppy you made.
The poetry ambulance was my favourite bit too, Debra.
None of the survivors ever seemed to talk about it, Sonata. I was told about the bullet through my grandfather but not by him.
I was so pleased the event happened in Swansea, Jacqui. The lovely weather helped the day of course.
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