Poppygate

And so, as Poppytide has come to an end, begins the long removal of poppies from the Moot House and its surroundings.

The Great Wall of Poppies on the lawn took six weeks to put up, and looked like taking as long to take down. Setting fire to it was not something we really wanted to do. But actually it burned better than a Wicca Person on St John's Eve. You could see it for miles around.

But I'll miss the Poppy Fountain. A beautiful design, as the plastic poppies popped out of the top, running down to the base in an endless stream of patriotic nostalgia.

And the differently coloured poppies. Red poppies for those who made the ultimate sacrifice.  White for those who thought they needn't have made the sacrifice. Black poppy roses for Black, African, and/or Caribbean service people and victims of war. Purple for the cute animals. Yellow for the ones that weren't so cute. Orange for people called Brian. I don't know whether they were specific Brians. And the Royal Brian Union thought maybe they were a misprint. Whatever.They were all very attractive, I thought. 

The poppies. Not the Brians 

We also have the problem of what to do with Burton. He was found not wearing a poppy in public on 7 November, and has been locked in the Doily Shed ever since. He's got all the facilities there - running water, a toilet, and all the doilies he can eat. But we've got to let him out some time. And what is the custodial sentence for not wearing a poppy? Maybe the Daily Mail will know.

So now we're storing the non-burnt poppies for next year. I'm glad we built the Seasonal Display shed. We can stick them with the special upside down Union Jacks and the Halloween merchandise, when we get the dancing reindeer out.