The War Memorial, Cockenzie, East Lothian.

On Friday we took a trip over to see SF writer Eric Brown and his family in East Lothian.

On the way back we meandered along the coast a bit. I came across a War Memorial on the way into Cockenzie. (I didn’t bother photographing Cockenzie’s most prominent feature, its now disused coal-fired Power Station, whose twin chimneys can easily be seen from across the Forth.)

Cockenzie War Memorial is an elegant simple cross.

Cockenzie War Memorial

It has beautiful surroundings of a large lawn-filled space with flower beds around the memorial itself.

Setting of Cockenzie War Memorial

Edited to add: the Scottish War Memorials website gives this as Cockenzie and Port Seton War Memorial.

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  1. Denis Cullinan

    Hello Jack,
    I looked out Eric brown’s vital stats just a bit and found him to be a mere fresh-faced lad of little more than fifty! Reminds me, I must trim my beard, which is now getting caught under the toes of my slippers as I totter about.
    Speaking of SF, I read Wells’ Time Machine last week for the umpteenth time since the 1950s. If I were a critic I would (mendaciously of course) claim that his description of a hail storm, my favorite passage, was the finest ever framed in the English language:
    “A pitiless hail was hissing round me,and I was sitting on soft turf in front of the overset machine…. The rebounding, dancing hail hung in a cloud over the machine, and drove along the ground like smoke…. As the columns of hail
    grew thinner….It [the colossal sphinx figure]seemed to advance and to recede as the hail drove before it denser or thinner. At last I tore my eyes from it for a moment and saw that the hail curtain had worn threadbare, and that the sky was lightening with the promise of the sun…. the shafts of the sun smote through the thunderstorm. The grey downpour was swept aside and vanished like the trailing garments of a ghost. Above me, in the intense blue of the summer sky, some faint brown shreds of cloud whirled into nothingness. The great buildings about me stood out clear and distinct, shining with the wet of the thunderstorm, and picked out
    in white by the unmelted hailstones piled along their courses.”
    I have to admit that Wells has described shafts of sunlight as “smiting down” into darker regions a leeeetle bit too often.
    ——Denis Cullinan

  2. jackdeighton

    Yes, Denis, Eric is a mere lad.
    Wells was of his time. You can’t get away with sunlight smiting anything these days. Smiting is a rather biblical thing.

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