Monday, 11 November 2013


It was Remembrance Day on Sunday and as usual a large crowd gathered in the town centre for a minute's silence, a service and wreath laying.  I am always impressed at how people turn out for this, especially the young.  Actually I often wonder what young people make of this ceremony.  It must be the only time they see so many men in suits AND ties.  And hats!

But I am pleased too that the World Wars are now appearing in school history curricula; so much more relevant to who we are (and what we want to be) than studying the Elizabethans.

I am always emotional when the bugler sounds the Last Post.   Must be the plaintive notes, because it means nothing else to me.  I always though think how lucky I am.  I was born at the end of the War, which means that, unlike so many others, both my mother and father survived.  Without them, I wouldn't exist.  A bit obvious, but it's pure Fate that they both were engaged in potentially dangerous jobs during the War, yet both lived to tell the tale.  

Or not, actually - very few survivors speak of the War at all.  We are still finding out details now - Churchill's 'secret army' took part in the march-past yesterday for the first time, because we didn't know they existed until recently.   But I often wonder who I would have been if only one of my parents had survived.  I'd be quite different of course.  Maybe not so nice.  Or maybe I still wouldn't have existed.  Who would know?  I suppose I wouldn't.  What miserable thoughts this had all aroused.

To cheer myself up, on my way home, I popped into Tescos for some essentials - sausages, shortbread biscuits, Snickers bars, etc.  But they had their new seasonal bargains display up - snow shovels, anti-freeze, grit for the drive . . .  How depressing everything is!

Luckily the sun was shining and I was able to spend the rest of the day in the garden.  That shouls cheer me up.  Argh!  What's this in the middle of my lawn?


  1. The 'Last Post' always affects me like that, too. And hearing the 'Ode Of Remembrance' being read out always affects me too.

    Either that is a piece of plastic abstract art on your lawn, or a very funky fungus.

  2. You have some wonderful modern art on your lawn. What did it cost you? Is it plastic or natural materials? I too was born at the end of the war in 1944. My dad was on the Hood but in Scotland taking a course when it was sunk. He didn't talk about it until he was in later life. There must be a sense of guilt that goes along with the joy of surviving such disasters. I think of that when I see the faces today in the Philippines.

  3. For heavens sake Neil, Cheer up!