Blogue d'un québécois expatrié en Angleterre. Comme toute forme d'autobiographie est constituée d'une large part de fiction, j'ai décidé de nommer le blogue Vraie Fiction.
Sunday, 9 November 2014
The poppy and the needle
This is a trivial post about a non trivial subject. For something more thoughtful, you might want to read this post from 2008. Today is/was Remembrance Day. It is actually Remembrance Sunday, as it is Sunday. And like most years, while I had a poppy, I did not wear it. I know I should, but at some point something happens and I lose it or it drops or out of frustration I stop wearing it. It is very simple really: it is all the needle's fault. Every year, I buy a poppy, sometimes more as I lose the first one, then I struggle to put it on. I am rubbish with that darn needle: it does not hold the paper poppy very well, or at all, then it does not stay on me anyway. So the needle ends up prickling my skin and letting the red flower go. They should invent something else to hold it, some pegs or something of the sort. So my respect towards the sacrifices of a dead generation is thwarted by a stupid needle and my own clumsiness.