
Just think of that number: 888,246.
That’s one flower for each of the colonial soldiers killed in the First World War. It sounds a lot, but that number is overwhelming when you wander around the moat and see the vast expanse of red flowers – and the installation is still expanding.
It was an enjoyable afternoon – warm, friendly and worthwhile. We stayed into the evening to witness the role call: at sundown each night, the names of 180 of those who died is read out at the front of the tower. I was amazed at the thousands of people who gathered for this event in total silence – silence except for sound of London traffic, the sirens of emergency vehicles ... and the mobile phone that rang during the reading of names.
Then came the last post.
A solitary guardsman stood on a small mound amidst the poppies and let his trumpet sing the mournful tune.
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