I recognise all of the fanciers in the picture some still with us and some sadly passed including my late father Hugh Martin of Martin & King, Shotts.

Also sadly missing Tommy Boyle of T. Boyle and Son, Newarthill and George Kelly of A&H Eadie & Kelly, Newmains.

Total REspect.

MJB

The fancy will never fill the viod, deapest sympathy to the family and friends, sleep well auld pal ðŸ™

Condolences to his family.

Last night John didn't keep well for the last few years R.I.P. pal

Condolences to family and friends 😞

Harrow Chrissie;

It is with a sad heart that I report the death of Chrissie Harrow of Bonnybank Kennoway; on 11th November 2019 peacefully at home. Chrissie, aged 95 years, was the beloved wife of the late John Harrow an excellent racing fancier but a fantastic show man. I remember many happy times one in particular was with John, Don Malcolm & Ian Hopkins we drove down to Blackpool. It rained and snowed most of the way; we covered the show baskets on the roof rack with black bags to stop the rain from getting into the birds. When we stopped off at Southwaite Services; there was not a bag left on the baskets and they were soaking wet. We still won prize tickets at Blackpool show and had great times with the other members of the Scottish Show Racer Society. Chrissie always made us welcome to their home and we as a family spent many happy hours in the company of Chrissie and John. To their son Jim and partner Karen, sister Irene, and a dear aunt and friend to many, especially Susie, who informed us of Chrissie’s passing. Rest in peace my dear friend; The funeral service will be held at St Kenneth's Church, Kennoway, on Wednesday, November 27, at 10-15am and thereafter to Kennoway Cemetery, at 11am to which all friends are respectfully invited. Family flowers only, please.

Joe Murphy

Scottish Scribe

click to enlarge

Because I believe remembrance is...not only for one day

I wear it for the fallen, and for these falling still

For those who came back broken in body and will.

For the parents, spouses, siblings where bereavement takes it toll...whose pain will never leave them, it eats their heart and soul.

... ... ... For the wino on the corner, of his old life... nothing's left.

Now he wishes when in battle he had died a hero's death.

For the lad who loved a kick-about in the park with all his mates.

But now his legs are held together with pins and metal plates

For the selfless men and women who's final journey home

Is in a union flag-draped coffin on comrades' shoulders bourne

For all those marching proudly In Remembrance Day parades.

My poppy's worn in gratitude for the sacrifice they made....

Thank You

During the early part of the First World War, the use of pigeons was controlled by the Intelligence Corps, and in the spring of 1915, pigeons were used successfully to bring back situation reports during the enemy attack on Ypres. As a result, the first Corps Pigeon Service was organised in the Second Corps during May, and from this date, the growth of the forward Carrier Pigeon Service was rapid. The carrier pigeon was recognised as being a trustworthy and speedy means of conveying messages over distances far greater than the newly-introduced wireless sets could reach. A pigeon station was established at each Brigade sector of the Front, and each had a basket containing four pigeons in the charge of a specially trained soldier. The Service was reorganised in 1915 and an establishment of ten pigeon stations with each army was authorised.

As the War progressed, it became necessary to increase the Service even further, and the lessons learned during the Somme offensive showed that there was a need for a 'mobile' loft, which could be moved around as the need arose. The proposal for the mobile service was for six motor and sixty horsedrawn lofts, each containing fifty and seventy-five birds respectively. The Mobile Loft proved to be a success as by 1917, it was reported that the service was very efficient with several hundred messages were being passed by the pigeon service during each battle. In July 1917, the number of horsedrawn lofts was increased to 120. However, in later stages of the war, it was found that Mobile Lofts were not as 'mobile' as had been hoped, and during any rapid retreat, it was quite often difficult to find any horses, and many Lofts were either lost to the enemy, or destroyed by fire. At the end of the War, there were 22,000 pigeons in service, with 150 Mobile Lofts and 400 pigeoneers.

HE LIVED ALL ALONE,

IN A ONE BEDROOM HOUSE,

MADE OF PLASTER AND STONE.

I HAD COME DOWN THE CHIMNEY,

WITH PRESENTS TO GIVE,

AND TO SEE JUST WHO,

IN THIS HOME, DID LIVE.

I LOOKED ALL ABOUT,

A STRANGE SIGHT I DID SEE,

NO TINSEL, NO PRESENTS,

NOT EVEN A TREE.

NO STOCKING BY MANTLE,

JUST BOOTS FILLED WITH SAND,

ON THE WALL HUNG PICTURES,

OF FAR DISTANT LANDS.

WITH MEDALS AND BADGES,

AWARDS OF ALL KINDS,

A SOBER THOUGHT,

CAME THROUGH MY MIND.

FOR THIS HOUSE WAS DIFFERENT,

IT WAS DARK AND DREARY,

I FOUND THE HOME OF A SOLDIER,

ONCE I COULD SEE CLEARLY.

THE SOLDIER LAY SLEEPING,

SILENT, ALONE,

CURLED UP ON THE FLOOR,

IN THIS ONE BEDROOM HOME.

THE FACE WAS SO GENTLE,

THE ROOM IN DISORDER,

NOT HOW I PICTURED,

A TRUE BRITISH SOLDIER.

WAS THIS THE HERO,

OF WHOM I'D JUST READ?

CURLED UP ON A PONCHO,

THE FLOOR FOR A BED?

I REALISED THE FAMILIES,

THAT I SAW THIS NIGHT,

OWED THEIR LIVES TO THESE SOLDIERS,

WHO WERE WILLING TO FIGHT.

SOON ROUND THE WORLD,

THE CHILDREN WOULD PLAY,

AND GROWNUPS WOULD CELEBRATE,

A BRIGHT CHRISTMAS DAY.

THEY ALL ENJOYED FREEDOM,

EACH MONTH OF THE YEAR,

BECAUSE OF THE SOLDIERS,

LIKE THE ONE LYING HERE.

I COULDN'T HELP WONDER,

HOW MANY LAY ALONE,

ON A COLD CHRISTMAS EVE,

IN A LAND FAR FROM HOME.

THE VERY THOUGHT BROUGHT,

A TEAR TO MY EYE,

I DROPPED TO MY KNEES,

AND STARTED TO CRY.

THE SOLDIER AWAKENED,

AND I HEARD A ROUGH VOICE,

"SANTA DON'T CRY,

THIS LIFE IS MY CHOICE;

I FIGHT FOR FREEDOM,

I DON'T ASK FOR MORE,

MY LIFE IS MY GOD,

MY COUNTRY, MY CORPS.."

THE SOLDIER ROLLED OVER,

AND DRIFTED TO SLEEP,

I COULDN'T CONTROL IT,

I CONTINUED TO WEEP.

I KEPT WATCH FOR HOURS,

SO SILENT AND STILL,

AND WE BOTH SHIVERED,

FROM THE COLD NIGHT'S CHILL.

I DID NOT WANT TO LEAVE,

ON THAT COLD, DARK, NIGHT,

THIS GUARDIAN OF HONOR,

SO WILLING TO FIGHT.

THEN THE SOLDIER ROLLED OVER,

WITH A VOICE SOFT AND PURE,

WHISPERED, "CARRY ON SANTA,

IT'S CHRISTMAS DAY, ALL IS SECURE."

ONE LOOK AT MY WATCH,

AND I KNEW HE WAS RIGHT.

"MERRY CHRISTMAS MY FRIEND,

AND TO ALL A GOOD NIGHT."

This poem was written by a Peacekeeping soldier stationed overseas. The

following is his request. I think it is reasonable

PLEASE. Would you do me the kind favour of sending this to as many people as

you can? Christmas will be coming soon and some credit is due to all of the

service men and women for our being able to celebrate these festivities. Let's

try in this small way to pay a tiny bit of what we owe. Make people stop and

think of our heroes, living and dead, who sacrificed themselves for us.

Please, do your small part to plant this small seed.

http://www.oilsandwatercolours.co.uk/images/soldier-2-510.jpg

Thank You