Poppy Appeal Launch 2010

29 October 2010


The Derbyshire County  Poppy Appeal Launch for 2010 took place in the entrance to the Stables at Chatsworth House on Friday 29th October 2010. The launch was performed by His Grace The Duke of Devonshire when he bought the first poppy from Colin Picken (County Poppy Appeal Co-ordinator).


The Poppy Appeal Launch began with the arrival of eighteen motor bikes carrying Members of The Royal British Legion Riders Branch.  Many of the bikes were decorated with Poppies and Legion flags.  The Riders Branch Members who came from four Counties went along to show there support for the Appeal and to take an active part in the Launch. (For Riders Branch click on link)


The launch finished with a recital of the poem 'Poppies' by the Poet, Jane Weir, who wrote it.  See below for the poem.


Also present at the launch was Her Grace The Duchess of Devonshire and members of her family, Mrs Fiona Cannon (High Sheriff of Derbyshire), Bernard Page (County Chairman), Sue Smart (Regional Fundraising Manager Midlands), Paul Mulingani (County Manager) and his Staff, Legion Members and Members of Derbyshire County Committee.

The County Chairman - Bernard Page - introducing
The Duke of Devonshire to those present




The Duke and Duchess of Devonshire
holding a spray of poppies

Jane Weir reading her poem 'Poppies'

Three days before Armistice Sunday
and poppies had already been placed
on individual war graves.  Before you left
I pinned one onto your lapel, crimped petals,
spasms of paper red, disrupting blockade
of yellow bias binding; around your blazer.

Sellotape bandaged around my hand,
as I rounded up as many white cat hairs
as I could smoothed down your shirt’s
upturned collar, steeled the softening
of my face.  I wanted to graze my nose
across the tip of your nose, play at
being Eskimos like we did when
you were little.  l resisted the impulse
to run my fingers through the gelled
blackthorns of your hair.  All my words
flattened, rolled turned into felt,
slowly melting.  I was brave, as I walked
with you, to the front door, threw
it open, the world overflowing
like a treasure chest.  A split second
and you were away, intoxicated.

After you'd gone I went into your bedroom,
released a song bird from its cage.
Later a single dove flew from the pear tree,
and this is where it has led me,
skirting the church yard walls, my stomach busy
making tucks, darts, pleats, hat-less, without
a winter coat or reinforcements of scarf, gloves.

On reaching the top of the hill I traced
the inscriptions on the war memorial,
leaned: against it like a wishbone.
The dove pulled freely against the sky,
an ornamental stitch.  I listened, hoping to hear
your: playground voice catching on the wind.

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