Contrasts

Second to the Edinburgh Castle, the Scott Monument dominates the centre of Edinburgh. In the two weeks leading up to Remembrance Day on Sunday 11th November, I noticed that the garden around the monument, was gradually populated with little crosses, each bearing a poppy. Each cross was reverently placed into the soft turf by volunteers, and every now and again there were signs denoting a particular area in memory of the fallen for a region, a battalion or other special group. Visitors wandered around the paths, obviously moved by the display.

For at least a week the air was filled with the sounds of mournful bagpipes as volunteer pipers busked for donations towards the poppy appeal (www.poppyscotland.org.uk). Bus shelters showed pictures of injured soldiers, kilts became commonplace, and even the homeless begging on the streets changed their cardboard signs to indicate they were returned soldiers.

The day culminated in marches, the obligatory minute's silence, and even more proudly-worn kilts and knobbly knees. I was impressed just how the spirit of sacrifice was observed, how seriously it was taken, how reverently people remembered the fallen. I confess I was out on the water at 11am that day, and too busy trying to get the jib trimmed just right...

Imagine my surprise the day after when I alighted the 26 Clerton-bound bus outside the Scott Monument to see cardboard boxes strewn around the grass, with those tenderly placed crosses being unceremoniously rooted out of the ground and dumped into the boxes. I paused in astonishment to confirm that there was definitely no reverence, tenderness or respect. They had done their job and it was time to dispose of them. I was, to say the least, surprised.

The following day, the bus I was on followed into town what appeared to be a fairground truck carrying a carousel. As the bus ground to a halt outside the Scott Monument I realised that the carousel truck was turning into the monument gardens ahead of us. When I looked further I noticed that not only was the carousel truck in the gardens, but that all the garden benches had been collected into a pile, and there were collections of panels, portable toilets, and more machinery all over the gardens. As the next few days progressed a massive Ferris Wheel took shape alongside the monument, as well as various other fairground attractions.


I was quite literally gob-smacked. All the reverence and care leading up to Remembrance Day was wiped out within a few hours and replaced with - frivolity? 

It has taken me a while to get my head around it. At one level it seemed something akin to sacrilege to treat the gardens in such diametrically opposed ways. I have come to resolve it as a powerful demonstration of what has been made possible through the soldiers' sacrifice: peace in this country, and the freedom and safety to enjoy oneself. I'm not sure what you make of this tale. Perhaps others will have perspectives that help me understand it further.