It’s eleven o’clock and the country is remembering both the dead and survivors of ninety years of war.
Not much more to say other than to post The Last Laugh by Wilfred Owen, my favourite war poet, although in some ways I prefer the earlier Last Words on which it is based. Read more ›››
As promised, I watched the memorial services held today. Bit of a cock-up it was too. The whole show kicked off late; the band played Onward Christian Soldiers far too swiftly; and the readings were cut short. Short shrift for old and decent fighting men.
So I watched, sniffling a tear. I can’t help remembering my uncle Ronnie, a good man, and his remembrances of that fateful day. It must have been awful, but what shines through is not the death and destruction, but the simple need for food. Read more ›››