War Graves and Poppies

I’d finished the fifth draft of “Scattered Lives” and I wanted to leave some space before reading through it all, limiting my corrections to obvious inconsistencies and typos and sending it off to my lovely mentor as promised.

Field of Poppies a few yards away from 1st World War Graves

Talking to myself on a long walk has often helped with decisions about how much to change without further advice, and I had the opportunity last Tuesday after visiting my mother-in-law in hospital and leaving earlier than expected at her request.  No rain being forecast for once, I decided to walk the long way home, five miles rather than two,  a mile heading out of town through heathland and across a perilously busy road to a lane that runs for almost two miles along the edge of the town, built up on one side and with miles of open countryside on the other.  Wanting to walk through the fields and not caring about the likelihood of mud seeping through the holes in my sandals, I headed even further away from town, followed a footpath sign beside a Norman church, and went past the Commonwealth war graves behind it. I suddenly had a vague memory of visiting them some time ago with a former colleague who is well versed in local history, so didn’t break my stride to go in. However, as soon as graves ended and the path opened up, the adjoining field was ablaze with a glorious display of poppies. Had they been planted, or was it just one of those weird coincidences that in a novel would be condemned for stretching credulity? I think coincidences do happen and if there are any such episodes in my work in progress I will leave them alone for now.

Meanwhile, the breathing space has turned into almost two weeks now and going for another lone walk rather than getting on with the necessary read-through is nothing but procrastination.