Remembrance

I walked down to get my haircut, this morning, before driving back up to Kirkby Lonsdale. As luck would have it, I came out of the barber's slightly before eleven o'clock, so I was able to stop at the memorial and pay my respects.

At times like this, I always remember that they say that those politicians who have the most 'hawkish' tendencies have almost never done active service. Those that have, tend to be of the opposite persuasion. There's a lot of significance in that; those who've been there don't want to send our young men and women to war.

I knew a simple soldier boy ,
Who grinned at life in empty joy,
Slept soundly through the lonesome dark,
And whistled early with the lark.

In winter trenches, cowed and glum,
With crumps and lice and lack of rum,
He put a bullet through his brain.
No one spoke of him again.

You smug-faced crowds with kindling eye,
Who cheer when soldier lads march by,
Sneak home and pray you'll never know,
The hell where youth and laughter go.

'Suicide In The Trenches' Siegfried Sassoon.

On a brighter note, Bob was up in Kirkby Lonsdale with his family, this evening, to celebrate his dad's eightieth birthday. Thus, and happily, we were able to grab a couple of late afternoon beers in the King's Arms.