The Battle of the Somme

When I got into town to busk on Saturday I noticed a lot of soldiers collecting money for “Remembrance Sunday/Poppy Day” this year it seems a bigger event than normal; more soldiers, more news items about the human sacrifice, more programmes about the Wars and especially World War 1… more reminders about war and death.

I made my way to my busking area passing homeless people on the streets; one was a young lad who was hugging his sleeping bag with a cup of coffee someone had given him. He was not asking for money he looked too tired.

The weather had gotten colder, the mild air being replaced by a stillness that had a cold edge to the climate. When I got to my place, where I normally busk there was a women packing up her clothes into bags, she was moving somewhere else. I wrapped up warm as I played my concertina, jumpers, hats, fingerless gloves.

With all the army lads and lasses around collecting for the Poppy fund I did not make much money that Saturday. I live off what I earn, it is my job… but it is not a very stable job, my ‘office’ is draughty, and my security is non-existent. I do not think the homeless person was making any money too, but I think the army made lots.

I played a tune called “The Lark in the Clear Air” it is a beautiful Irish melody I heard in the 80s, it is a song melody played on a mouth-organ and I heard it being played on a LP with the same title. I followed that melody with a Highland bagpipe melody called “The Battle of the Somme” a 9/8 melody which was written about the Battle of the Somme in WW1; the melody is a bit tricky on the concertina (especially in a cold wind), but I think that melody was a good one for a day like that Saturday; with the Poppy Day Remembrance Sunday approaching and the presence of the military and remembering what the wars were supposed to be for…

When I finished busking I packed my things away and I noticed my body temperature dropping very fast. I began to shiver and shake, my muscles tensed up and I could not control my teeth chattering. I was ok while I was busking, but when I stopped I began to lose feeling, my hands turned purple and I could not walk straight.

As I walked, trying to warm up I noticed the boy in his sleeping bag, fast asleep on the pavement, his feet nearly blocking the march of the people as they passed by him. I kept walking and shaking, not warming up at all. In town I noticed the army were still collecting money and having a good laugh with their friends. Also lads and lasses wearing t-shirts and tank-tops in temperatures quickly dropping as the winter’s sun had set, getting ready for a night out.

I went to the public toilets and put my purple hands under hot water for a few minutes, then went to have a cup of coffee and I tried to remember what the wars were about…

Author: ethnopiper

A Ethnomusicologist and musician of traditional music, Small pipe maker, teacher and workshop presenter ... https://ethnopiper.wordpress.com/

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