Thank you, from the bottom of my flabby bits, I've been looking for that poem for about 10 years, since I read it first working in a military museum...

I used to be one of the 'won't buy a poppy, won't propagate war' people, because I didn't understand exactly what the poppy was about. I would have worn a white one if I'd been able to get one (this is deepest darkest Dorset we're talking here, we haven't even got a motorway yet!), and always avoided wearing one unless I had to, but then I did 2 years working as a research assistant in the Dorset Military Museum. I have read some of the original war diaries, covered with the genuine mud and yes, even blood of Flanders Field. The versions you see as dramas, as published war diaries, as memoirs are like comparing the Simpsons Hallowe'en specials with Nightmare on Elm Street. There are no words to describe the sights those poor people saw, no photographs can do them justice, and thank God they only had black and white. My great great uncle was killed near Arras, less than 2 months before the end of the war, and this year I found his memorial. He doesn't have a grave, he is buried somewhere under the cornfields with 6 thousand other men. I never knew him, but having read the diaries of the Dorset Regiment who were stationed there at the same time, I can only pray he died cleanly and quickly. All I have is the fabled photograph in a brown leather frame, and an empty feeling whenever I see a poppy. We will remember...

Liz