General Chat

R.I.P <3

I wondered about Andy Murray, OFITG. So sad it has left such a terrible mark on so many families like your friends.

Thanks JustJohn and Maryanna - it is a day that is engraved in my heart as it devastated the lives of some friends of mine who lost loved ones on that terrible day, I would also mention that if it was not for the Grace of God - Andy Murray may never have lived to win Wimbledon as his class was the next class due in the gym.

Heartbreaking, OFITG. Makes me want to cry every time I think about it.

Our security at school was stepped up afterwards, but whenever I looked at the class all I could think about were those little ones, just like those sitting in front of me, and the terrible thing that had happened to them.

Thinking of them and their families today.

M. <3

Seems like yesterday, OFITG. 18 years ago. Such a terrible waste of young lives and talent :-(

In the village of Dunblane on Wednesday, 13 March 1996, a 43 year old man made his way into the gym of the local primary school in Dunblane, Scotland where he shot and killed sixteen children, aged between five and six, he also killed their teacher, apart from the dead thirteen others, including three teachers, were injured but survived.

On this, the anniversary of that terrible day, my thoughts and prayers go out to the survivors and to all the family and friends of those who were killed, this poem was dedicated to the memory of the Dunblane children and their courageous parents who after the tragedy fought for a ban on the ownership and use of handguns.

To A Snowdrop

Easy, the stream flows off the Ben
Adown the dyke-run, tae the glen.
The fallen grass is solemn, bare:
Alang the head-rig strolls the hare -

Unnoticed, thru the misty morn
Past the oak an' hardy thorn;
At the water, she sniffs the air -
She knows the scent and lingers there.

Returning foliage, comes in sight
Like children bathed in crystal light.
The snowdrops stand, firm an' brave
While Summer lays in Autumn's grave.

Are milk-white petals, Winter's dress?
Is innocence a shield tae press?
What wind, what snaw, what wildest gale
Does blast your limpid cheeks sae pale?

Wee snowdrop - ye gentle flow'r
In a' Nature's glory bower,
Ye stand apart, when nought else charms:
Like babes ripped from a mother's arms,

Ye fold and fall at Winter's close
Withstanding a' that Winter throws:
Spring's harbinger, wi' dewy tear
Ye mind me o' our children dear.

To A Snowdrop © Patrick Scott Hogg, Cumbernauld, Scotland 1997

R.I.P. little children - gone to soon but you will never be forgotten <3