At the time she set sail from Southampton she was the largest moving object on the globe; one of the wonders of the early 20th century. But her time was short.
For the last few days we’ve been in Liverpool and Belfast, absorbing ourselves in the story. And what a story it is. Heroes and villains. Man and nature. Life and death. Panic and Hope. Warmth and the kind of cold that no human heart can withstand.
Our kids love this story. We all do. 100 years on and it still shows no sign of getting old. While we age and wrinkle, Titanic is preserved in myth and legend and Hollywood movie magic. She is stroked by silt and kissed by salt. She is silenced by darkness and frozen by time.
Icicle becomes rusticle. She is gone. And yet she still sails on. And at 23.40 Titanic time on the 14th April, a hundred years after she hit the iceberg, the children dream Titanic dreams, while Stuart and I pause in memory of this long lost ship of souls.
We’ visited Liverpool and Belfast to find out more about how the two cities are connected to Titanic, joined in the Titanic Festival and tried to figure out what the story of the Titanic has to teach us one hundred years on.
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