'The lamps are going out . . .

. . . all over Europe, we shall not see them lit again in our life-time.'

It is these words, attributed to Sir Edward Grey*, on the eve of the first world war that will be remembered as our nation commemorates the beginning of that war and some 244 weeks of remembrance, reflection and homage.

Please make the time and take the opportunity to visit one of the many 'Lights Out' services that will be happening across this nation of ours on the 4th August 2014.

For those in Tamworth there will be such a service from 10 - 11 pm at St Editha's church in the centre of town.

There is also a service at the National Memorial Arboretum which will run from 8 - 9pm - the climax coming as all lights having been extinguished and the sun sets (20:54) the service ends with the playing of the Last Post.

Please check to see where your 'Lights Out' service will be taking place (and for those who know - post details here as comments.

Thank You

* whose father was the 1st Earl Grey


and yes I will do you one of these with your badge on Nick :-)

D-Day: Seventy years on

Today, as we mark the seventieth anniversary of D-Day and pay homage to those who gave their lives on land, sea and in the air to bring about the beginning of the end of war in Europe, we pay tribute to all those who took part in that day and remain, proud and standing still.

We reflect upon the actions of all those brave men who piloted gliders into battlefield, jumped from aircraft and ran onto beaches laden with mines and into the face of machine gun fire: Those who ferried them to the conflict in the air and on the sea. We remember the women who were also present and providing medical support not far behind them too.

Today does not glorify war* - but it does remember the courage and sacrifice of many to rescue our island from the threat of conquest and repel the invaders from mainland Europe (something that took another 337 days of conflict) and bring peace. And we must remember that peace is something that rarely comes without a price - and that price was, in this action, over 4,087 allied lives (plus an unknown number of Germans) and more than 10,000 wounded.

Today, as I take part in the commemoration and remembrance of that day seventy years ago I offer a prayer of thanks for those whose selfless commitment, courage (and that's what it takes to run onto any battlefield) and patriotism have given me the freedom I, and all around me, enjoy.

For those who remain, my respect, admiration and thanks are yours.

For those who have gone - on, or from, the field of conflict or subsequently: May you rest in peace and rise again in glory.

And a prayer that was said by the Free French Commandos as they approached the beaches - one which might serve us well each day of our lives:

'Lord, I shall be very busy today. I may forget about You, but do not Thou forget about me.'

*take a look at the Omaha beach scene from 'Saving Private Ryan' to see how awful war is!

WWI poets - Wilfred Owen

4th August 2014 is the centenary of the beginning of the 1914-18 conflict.

Some people I have spoken to are thinking that this is it but in fact the four years, three months and eight days (or 223 weeks) that we cover from the first act of commemoration through the many (some one hundred and fifty) battles trough to the final act of thanks (and then a celebration for that war's end) on Armistice Day.

As I began to focus on what this marathon will mean for me I was led back to Wilfred Owen's poem:

'Anthem For Doomed Youth'
What passing-bells for these who die as cattle?
Only the monstrous anger of the guns.
Only the stuttering rifles' rapid rattle
Can patter out their hasty orisons.
No mockeries now for them; no prayers nor bells;
Nor any voice of mourning save the choirs,
The shrill, demented choirs of wailing shells;
And bugles calling for them from sad shires.
What candles may be held to speed them all?
Not in the hands of boys, but in their eyes
Shall shine the holy glimmers of good-byes.
The pallor of girls' brows shall be their pall;
Their flowers the tenderness of patient minds,
And each slow dusk a drawing-down of blinds.


Here in Tamworth we have a former Vicar in the form of Morris Berkeley Peel who died 'tending the wounded' in May 1917 to think about (plus a wall full of men from our community who marched away never to return).

What about where you are?