We’re not in Italy and it’s not like any other old day in town. We’re in the heart of heartbreak land. Ypres, Ieper, Wipers – whichever way you say it, it leads you to one thing only. That’s death. On a massive scale.
Unwittingly, as if surrounded by marauding “sturmtruppen”, we get ambushed. We should have known better. After all it’s why we’re here. We’re inside the “In Flanders Fields” museum. The superb “presentations” showcase the horror, the misery, the suffering.
There’s no escape. Our minds can’t fathom it. We try to read the “history” to make sense of it. Impossible. We watch, listen and read of individual acts of bravery and kindness. All for the cause. All given for us.
Five hours later we emerge. Exhausted. Bewildered. But fully understand why not one these heroes must ever be forgotten.
So, how long does a man live, finally?
And how much does he live while he lives?
We fret, and ask so many questions –
Then when it comes to us
The answer is so simple.
A man lives for as long as we carry him inside us,
For as long as we carry the harvest of his dreams,
For as long as we can ourselves live,
Holding memories in common, a man lives.
His lover will carry his man’s scent, his touch,
His children will carry the weight of his love,
One friend will carry his arguments,
Another will hum his favourite tunes,
Another will still share his terrors.
Phew. That’s a bit heavy isn’t it? But it gets you like that.
Half way round, you can access the bell tower of the old Cloth Hall, which houses the museum. 231 steps later we’re at the top. Windswept and taking in the view of the town. As we spiral back down, the 49 bell carillon starts up, just as we near the bottom. Too late. Missed it. We head to the cafe. Then head straight back out. Two euros for a muffin (disguised as a fairy cake) and 10 euros for a croque monsieur. Even you know who would have said “Non!”
Ever curious, I wanted to see this carillon in action. On hearing churches’ multiple bell chimes I’d always imagined an army of keen campanologists bouncing up and down on their spots. Teams of zumba keep fit fanatics keeping immaculate time. Sadly, not one leotard in sight!
IM SORRY IM SHOUTING BUT IVE GONE PARTIALLY DEAF DUE TO THE BELLS!
5pm I guess, you must have been going like the clappers!!
Dave/Sue xx
Que?