A Good Friday tradition: The Widow's Son

Nine years ago, I heard about a pub in the East End that kept a wonderful tradition every Good Friday. A hot cross bun would be added to a collection of hot cross buns that had grown each year. This tradition started after a woman, whose son had left home to be a sailor, baked a hot cross bun in preparation for his return. He never returned home, but she never lost hope, and continued to bake a bun for him each year.

So my friends and their six-month-old baby went to The Widow's Son in Bromley-by-Bow, and sat in the beer garden on a Good Friday as beautiful and sunny as today's. When it was time for a sailor to add a new bun to the net of old buns (most of which, heartbreakingly, had been destroyed in a fire), we went over but found it hard to get decent photos, being so far back. So here's one, which I took before we left. And the sign outside the pub.

There's a lovely post here, with some much better photos - the blogger spoke to some of the people who have been involved in the tradition.

As for me, I just love the continuing bond of the mother and her son, which is still being honoured now, long after both have died. I think it's beautiful testament to the strength of love, and the need to express sadness and hope and all of the other feelings that come up weeks, months, years, decades after a bereavement.

Looking at the photos now reminds me of a couple of things I saw in Liverpool last October: an exhibition at the Museum of Liverpool on women and poppies, which included a talk about white poppies. These were originally worn by women whose sons had died in the war. However, they were criticised for wearing white poppies instead of red, even though they were expressing their own, very personal loss.

It also made me think of Tracey Emin's neon artwork which hangs in the gothic cathedral on Liverpool's Hope Street. I first saw it there when I visited Liverpool in 2010, and I was relieved to see it was still there last year. It could be read in so many different ways, and I think that's one of the loveliest things about art: that very personal, emotional connection we might have with some pieces.

Love is what you want

I saw the Tracey Emin retrospective ‘Love is What You Want’ at the Hayward Gallery today. I used to shun her art, thinking it had nothing but shock value, but a visit to Liverpool Anglican Cathedral changed my mind. She has created a pink neon lit sign with the words ‘I Felt You And I Knew You Loved Me’, which is displayed underneath a huge stained-glass window to stunning effect. You could interpret the words in a religious way or, as I did, in a non-religious way – and find them equally moving.

I’m not keen on all of her work, but some of it, especially her films, neons, appliqué blankets, and her works about pregnancy, are thoughtful and beautiful to me. My favourite piece in the exhibition is a neon with the white words ‘You Forgot to Kiss my Soul’ in a pink heart.

There is a huge, complex-looking neon rose called ‘White Rose’. And there is a blanket called ‘Mad Tracey from Margate. Everyone's been there’, made of pieces of clothing that friends donated to her. At the bottom, she has appliquéd these lovely words: ‘In turkey we say when you learn to love a rose you learn to love the thorns’.

The exhibition finishes on Monday, but please note that some of the work is sexually explicit, and the Hayward Gallery asks that under-16s be accompanied by an adult!