When we were planning our weekend to London, the one place I absolutely wanted to go was the Tower of London to see the poppies. I didn't realise at this point (I don't think anybody did really) quite how many other people would have the same idea but it was worth it.
We headed down on Remembrance Sunday morning, by which time I think the crowds had thinned out considerably (judging by what we'd seen on TV). We could work our way right down to the front to take photos, even if - as you can see - there were still thousands of people taking in the breath-taking views.
It genuinely does look like a moat of blood, with a solid block of red from a distance.
The deserted track through the sea of poppies adds a nice colour contrast and intensifies the sense of desolation and loss - it makes you think that there is nobody left to walk along the track because they've all fallen by the wayside.
The cross on the railings really brings home the fact that each of these poppies represents a lost life.
It's as poignant as it is beautiful and spectacular.
It was lovely to see how enthusiastic the vistors were, regardless of age, sex or nationality. Even the Madhouse kids were impressed with the sight and took on board the fact that each poppy represents a lost life.
You almost forget to look at the majestic Tower of London in the background.
Having visited, we would have bought a poppy but I was both disappointed and delighted to see that they have all been sold - that's an amazing amount of money raised for charity. I saw online that they were considering making more but I hope they don't really, as it would lose the symbolism.
Turning around, we took in some of the other London landmarks across the river - the Shard.
And Tower Bridge (which we'd be driving over a few hours later heading for home !).
With perfect timing, just as we were leaving, a beefeater came out of The Tower. I love the fact that he has a poppy in his hat.
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