THE Weeping Window poppies at St George’s Hall in Liverpool are much more than a stunning, cascading piece of art.

They were first seen at The Tower of London and now sections have been lovingly despatched to major cities.

Just as we commemorated Remembrance Sunday and will mark Armistice Day today (Wednesday, November 11) these poppies will makes us all reflect.

That is why school parties should visit this remarkable installation here until January.

Many hope this moving tribute crosses the water in the years to come – possibly at Wallasey Town Hall.

I am always touched on my way to the Wirral Globe office seeing the beautiful Remembrance Garden in Hamilton Square.

I often take time to sit on a bench and think of my grandfather wounded at the Somme and my father – a POW deafened as a gunner in the Eighth Army.

I think of the First World War poet Wilfred Owen who died just one week before Armistice Day in 1918.

In Argyle Street, there is a fitting tribute to his life at the much visited Wilfred Owen Story.

I have my own story of why the poppy has such an impact on me.

In the early 1990s I went on a tour of the Common Wealth War Graves in France and Belgium. I saw countless crosses and stone monuments which marked the lives of brave soldiers.

I had my own tribute to pay to the life of double VC winner Captain Noel Chavasse who grew up in Liverpool.

He was born on November 9, 1884, and died in 1917 at the age of 32. In an age before the internet I wanted to pay my respects to this hero.

Yet at each of the grave sites none of the guides could help me find his resting place.

On the last day at Brandhoek Cemetery at Ypres in Belgium, I stood with an overcoat buttoned up and wondered what it must have been like In No Man’s Land in freezing trenches so far from home.

As we were told to board the bus back to Blighty I gave one final look around and at that moment the poppy in my lapel was blown away.

It swirled and I followed it as it silently landed on a grave.

I read the inscription: "Noel Chavasse VC and Bar…"

There were tears in my eyes and I pointed out to my fellow travellers they were not down to the bitter, icy cold wind.

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I WAS asked for directions by an American tourist.

He wanted to find the site of the New Brighton Tower Ballroom.

He was from New Orleans to see the place where the Beatles first played the venue, which could host 5,000 people, on November 10, 1961.

The Beatles, then with Pete Best on drums, played two sets at 8pm and 11.30pm to 3,000 fans.

Armed with his camera, the American fab fan went off, but not before I told him that he should visit Hulme Hall in Port Sunlight where Ringo made his Beatle debut in 1962.

This day-tripper was well pleased with his Wirral wonderland.

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TELEVISION is so predictable.

As soon as one formulaic show is over, we await the next conveyor belt fodder from I'm A Celebrity – Get Me Out Of Here to Britain's Got Talent.

Now while we're enduring Strictly Come Prancing, we are suffering the Great Pottery Throw Down.

It's like watching mud dry.

But I feel the uninspired TV commissioners have missed a trick.

Buckingham Palace are searching for a flower king or queen.

This could have made a decent reality show with hopefuls given such creative horticultural tasks as designing garden parties and banquets.

And there would be plenty of toadies queuing up to be on the judging panel.

Called "Florist by Royal Appointment" it would be a blooming good ratings winner.

I have another idea.

A search for the best UK gardener called The Great British Rake Off.

I must get out more.

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AND finally ...

Time to conclude my mini-series featuring silly signs.

In a London department store: "Toilet out of order. Please use floor below."

And from a Liverpool launderette: "Automatic washing machines.

"Please remove all your clothes when the light goes out."

Peter Grant