Last night at 8 o’clock I, like millions of others, stood
outside the front door and clapped, expressing thanks to the NHS for the
wonderful work they are doing, many of them in horrendous and distressing
circumstances, many of them risking their own lives, during this crisis.
Though it was absolutely the right thing to do, it felt odd,
not the sort of thing that English people of a certain age would do, but once
one realised that other neighbours were also clapping, the self-consciousness
went and the spirits lifted. We all knew that we are in this together.
I was reminded, strangely, of that haunting moment 55 years
ago when the Thamesside dock cranes dipped in acknowledgement of the passing of
the “Havengore”, the barge taking Churchill’s body from the funeral service at
St Paul’s to Waterloo, for its onward journey to the great man’s final resting
place in Bladon, Oxfordshire. Another gesture that was unfamiliar, slightly
abstract, slightly artificial, but right. Weird, spine-tingling,
tear-provoking, powerful beyond words.
Many parallels are being drawn between the dark days of WW2
and the dark days of the present. As before, London is getting the worst of it.
In support of all those people self-isolated there I offer a song and an image.
My wonderful daughter Rosie has performed a version of the greatest song ever
written about the world’s greatest city, in response to a request from her
cousin, but to be enjoyed by everyone.
The image below, a sunny, almost deserted street, as it probably is today, is of a short thoroughfare called Alaska Street. On the right is Waterloo East station, and straight in front is Waterloo main line station, the focus of the song.
© R. Abbott 2017
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