Mary Irvine: The Whistle

red flower

The Whistle

 I had set my alarm to ensure I was up in good time. I am normally up well before 7am but this morning was extra-special. I turned on the radio and waited, listening to the scene being set. At 728 am I stood in remembrance of an event of 100 years ago. A whistle sounded the end of a respectful silence. 100 years ago a similar whistle sent thousands to death or a life-time of mental, physical suffering. The following just ‘came’.

Tommy heard the whistle. Sweat ran down his back, soaking already damp patches under the webbing of his backpack, armpits, crotch – that wasn’t sweat. He wiped each hand in turn near down a trouser leg.

The whistle stopped. He heard a voice calling:

‘Tommy, kettle’s just boiled, breakfast’s ready.’    

The picture is one of the ceramic poppies from the Tower of London display. I count myself privileged to have the care of one. A gift from my son. Rest assured this one will never appear on eBay or similar sites whilst I live!

Mary Irvine, 19 July, 2016

The Colour of Whisky, The State Bar, Friday 22 July 2016
Mother's Ruin, Friday 22 July, 2016, MacSorleys

This section: Mary Irvine: Writer and Philhellene, Seasonal Stories and Poems by Glasgow Writers, What's On Glasgow West End: cinema, clubs, theatre, music, events, festivals, community and more, Writing

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Avatar of PatByrne Publisher of Pat's Guide to Glasgow West End; the community guide to the West End of Glasgow. Fiction and non-fiction writer.

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