Poppies in Wallingford

Today is Remembrance Day. I commemorate with a picture I took recently in Wallingford. They had figures like this of soldiers with a poppy at the breast. Simple, beautiful and touching.

La guerre de 14-18

Parce que nous sommes le 11 novembre, Jour du Souvenir, je partage blogue La guerre de 14-18 de Georges Brassens. Je l'ai déjà fait en 2015, mais bon... Je crois que je peux me le permettre à nouveau.

The Red Baron

 Oh the treasures one finds randomly among the bookshelves of some in-law. In this case, my father-in-law. So we were staying at their place for a few days not so long ago and as usual when I am somewhere I have a look at the bookshelves. I found this biography of the Red Baron. I did not borrow it, because I have more than enough on my TRL, but maybe if I have a few minutes next time I will flick through it. There were other books on the same subject. My wife's father has been apparently fascinated for years about the Red Baron. I don't know much about the historical figure, but always loved the nickname, it sounds menacing and mysterious.

The 11th Hour

I left the blog about Remembrance Day to the eleventh hour, when the Armistice was signed. I was idle and I procrastinated, however to my defense I would say that this is a fitting time for this post. And to commemorate, I share this picture taken from the Facebook page of the British Museum. They shared it today to commemorate Remembrance Day. It was made back in 1779by British artist Mary Delany (I know nothing about her). I have more poppies to share, but these ones will do for now.

Imagination in a nutshell (and Snoopy)

We are soon going to celebrate the end of another war (at least in Europe), but today I thought I would share a comic strip from Peanuts with World War 1 as a backdrop (sort of). It made me laugh from beginning to end. You can see Snoopy and his brother Marbles. Some people have lots of imagination. Others, not so much. But when it comes to imagination, I am most definitely a Snoopy. And this strip is truly the story of many moments of my childhood.

Mademoiselle from Armentières

Today is Remembrance Day and I wanted to commemorate it here on the blog, not knowing exactly how. I have done so in the past, pretty much every year, and I have said pretty much all I could say. Then it struck me that since I watched the documentary They Shall Not Grow Old, there is a song that is sung in the closing credits and that I now associate a lot with World War 1 and army life (which I know nothing about). It is of course Mademoiselle from Armentières. It is a raunchy song, but it also shows a certain camaraderie in war and a certain fondness about army life that is quite heartwarming. It is, in any case, a very catchy tune.

100 years of World War I

As you most likely all know (or I sure hope so), today is the 11th of November, thus Remembrance Day and it is also the 100th year anniversary of the end of World War I. That day of the year when I struggle to keep a poppy on, to reduce something very solemn to something very trivial. To commemorate this very important anniversary, I have decided to upload with this post this poppy made by my wife and my son in his art class recently. A large paper poppy on display in the house in a pot, it is far better than wearing it and losing it due to my ineptitude to use a pin. Anyway, this is my way of commemorating. For a thoughtful post about war and the sacrifices of men and women who fought in it, please read this post from 2008. As for WWI itself, I have little to say about it that is really profound and I don't like spouting commonplaces if I can avoid it. I will just say here that it was meant to be the last.

Les coquelicots

Ce sera bientôt le Jour du Souvenir, ce qui veut direqu'on verra des coquelicots partout, pour marquer la fin de la Première guerre mondiale, qui aura cent ans cette année. Dans la classe d'art plastique de petit loup, on a d'ailleurs fait des coquelicots pour le 11 novembre, notamment comme ça, avec une roche. Je dois dire que je trouve ça assez mignon et j'ai donc décidé de partager la photo de son oeuvre sur le blogue ce soir.

Le Baron rouge et moi

Je me suis récemment rappelé un détail amusant: la date de ma fête tombe sur la date de la mort de Manfred von Richthofen, mieux connu sous le nom de Baron rouge. Longtemps, c'était pour moi le nom d'un restaurant, un nom mystérieux et menaçant. J'ai appris qui il était grâce à Corto Maltese lorsque j'ai lu l'histoire Côtes de Nuit et roses de Picardie (qui fait partie de l'album Les Celtiques).  Première aventure lue de Corto Maltese, d'ailleurs, et la première fois que j'apprenais qui était le Baron rouge dans une version romancée des évènements menant à sa mort. C'est une histoire fascinante, où Corto Maltese n'est guère plus qu'un observateur. Je la relirais bien, de préférence le jour de ma fête.

Guerilla equipment

I took this picture at the York Castle Museum. It is one of the many displays of paraphernalia from World War I the museum has and they fascinated me. Like I mentioned in this post, I am fascinated by them as they have an uncanny resemblance to the toys we used to play war during my childhood. One of my friends had almost exactly that: a water bottle, a compass, a monocular telescope, a Swiss army knife (because he was a Scout). We played war, often of the guerilla sort, which was quite cathartic. Funny to think how something so grave as war can become the subject of childhood games. Games I remember fondly.

Une pipe qui a fait la guerre

Je fais souvent dans le billet sur la Grande Guerre ces temps-ci, mais je voulais partager cette photo. L'année dernière, j'ai vu une exhibition d'objets de la Première guerre mondiale sur lesquels j'ai blogué une fois. Il y avait aussi cette pipe, qui m'a fasciné. Il n'y a plus grand-monde qui fume la pipe et celle-ci date d'il y a cent ans. Ce qui est quand même impressionnant. Je n'ai jamais aimé le tabagisme et l'odeur du tabac à pipe est trop fort, mais j'ai toujours trouvé que c'était un bel objet, surtout si la pipe est recourbée comme celle-ci.

Scary mask

I took this picture at the York Castle Museum. It is another relic from World War 1: a gas mask. More like a hooded mask really. Like many old relics, I am fascinated by it. I know it is meant to be utilitarian, but it looks quite scary nevertheless. Like a villain's mask from the old childhood games we had: the round eyes, the featureless, faceless face... It's not ugly, but not beautiful either. Terrifying even without the context of its use.

War Games

I took this picture at the York Castle Museum and have decided to use it to illustrate my post. This is the weaponry of a British soldier of World War 1 (I think it was the first one anyway, I might be wrong). Looking back at it, it struck me that some of these weapons have an uncanny resemblance with some of the toy guns I had or my friends had when I was a child. The revolver especially. We used to play war a lot back when I was a kid, with very life like plastic guns. war games, or cops and robbers, cowboys and Indians (or more like cowboys and desperadoes), spy games, and so on and so forth. But they always involved firearms, knifes and they all looked so real. I even remember some plastic grenades. I used to really enjoy these games, in spite or because of the violence in them. It was cathartic. So part of me remembered these games when I took this picture, because of the revolver, and not the horrors of war. Also, I can't help but think we don't make good toy guns as they used to, although I understand why they can't look like genuine anymore. Still, we used to play such fun games then.

Couverture historique

Il y a des choses qu'on découvre parfois. Comme il y a deux semaines, on présentait une exhibition d'objets de la Grande Guerre près du Monument aux morts de la petite ville anglaise où l'on vit. Nous n'y sommes pas restés longtemps, mais par curiosité j'avais voulu jeter un coup d'oeil. J'y ai alors vu la couverture carreautée que vous voyez sous le casque sur cette photo. Or, cette couverture ressemble à s'y méprendre à la couverture de mon enfance (voir la photo ici). Ça a eu sur moi un effet similaire à la madeleine de Proust. Bon, je n'ai jamais fait la guerre avec, mais ça demeure une couverture que j'aime beaucoup et que j'associe à pleins de bons souvenirs.

Se souvenir de la Grande Guerre

Le 11 novembre, c'était le Jour du Souvenir. Nous sommes aujourd'hui le "dimanche du Souvenir", comme on l'appelle ici. je voulais trouver une manière de le souligner et de commémorer la Grande Guerre sur Vraie Fiction, puis je me suis rapplé qu'il y avait une section complète sur le sujet au York Castle Museum. J'ai trouvé parmi mes photos de mon séjour à York ce tableau. Je crois qu'il illustre bien l'atmosphère de l'époque.

La Guerre de 14-18

Nous sommes le Jour du Souvenir. Afin de le souligner, je mets ici sur ce blogue La guerre de 14-18 de Georges Brassens. Parce que j'en ai un peu assez parfois des élans de patriotisme intempestif et que, même si je ne suis pas un pacifiste (loin de là), je trouve que certaines chansons, comme celle-ci, disent la guerre sans hypocrisie, avec juste ce qu'il faut d'humour noir et d'ironie.

Time for poppies

It is Remembrance Sunday today, a fittingly grey and gloomy Sunday. I have not much to say about it, except that I will try this year to keep my poppy on, although I always struggle. I said yesterday that November here is the month of fireworks, but it is not quite true: it truly is the month of the poppy. They are everywhere: in shops, in the street where they are sold by army cadets or veterans and of course on the everybody's coat or shirt. For a while at least, because I am not the only one struggling to keep the poppy on, apparently. Back in 2008, I blogged about In Flanders Fields, the poem by John McCrae which inspired the tradition of paper poppies. Today, I have decided to share a short documentary video made by The Royal British Legion telling the story of the tradition. Since I cannot keep a poppy on due to a hand full of thumbs, I can at least do this much to commemorate and remember.

Rediscovering Corto Maltese

I discovered Corto Maltese by Hugo Pratt when I was ten or so, in Pif Gadget, one of the French comic magazines my uncles on my mother's side used to read. It was one of the stories from The Celts, featuring the Red Baron, when Corto is merely an observer. I was blown away all the same. I then read other stories featuring him. Years later, in my early twenties, I bought my own albums and I rediscovered him. I have decided to do it again this year. Corto Maltese is an archetypal laconic rogue hero, a gentleman of fortune. His adventures are set during/around World War 1. While some are straight pulp adventures, others have elements of supernatural in it, even sometimes psychedelic.

His stories were originally published in black and white. It has since been coloured, but the original black and white graphic novels remain the best. The colours just denature the work of Pratt. I have gathered many titles in French, I thought I would buy some in English here to complete my collection, although I am also tempted to purchase some in Italian, just to try my luck with the language.

Un mardi comme un autre

C'était le Jour du Souvenir aujourd'hui. On le commémore beaucoup ici, enfin surtout le dimanche. À la onzième heure, j'étais au travail comme d'habitude et je n'ai même pas songé à la minute de silence, même si j'avais le droit de l'observer. Et je n'ai même pas porté de coquelicot (parce que). Alors voilà, c'était un mardi comme un autre. Même si nous sommes le centième anniversaire de la Première guerre mondiale. J'ai un peu honte de dire que c'était un mardi comme un autre.

An hour in darkness

Yesterday, between 10 and 11, we turned everything off in the flat, with only a candle to light us. It was to commemorate the centenary of WWI. It was strange: not watching TV, not going on the computer and being unable to read because the light of the candle was too dim. But it was a pleasant experience, strangely peaceful for a gesture commemorating one of the worst carnages in human history. It became more for me a way to relax and rediscover darkness (sweet, sweet darkness) and quiet time than truly acknowledge history. I blogged earlier this year about World War 1 and I intend to blog more about it. I thought I would tonight with this post and yesterday's commemoration. But in the end, I did not ponder about the Great War, I only sat down and absolutely savored this hour in darkness.