Today, the 11th of the 11th, at 11 a.m., the formerly allied world pauses and remembers the fallen and the sacrifices. Poems were written, poppies were chosen as the symbol of hope eternal.
But even in a seemingly simple idea as that, in the UK it was changed for convenience changed and it's now a virtue signalling politician fest on the Sunday.
It's not my intention to go further into that in this post now - Julia, Grandpa and I just commemorate either today or Sunday at the Cenotaph and whatever one is meant to say about the day - we say it to our readers.
How much longer for? How many more years?
Ah, that's another matter. 100 years? Longer if we are commemorating sacrifice for one's country and western values as they were - that goes on forever.
They shall grow not old, as we that are left grow old:
Age shall not weary them, nor the years condemn.
At the going down of the sun and in the morning
We will remember them.
Apologies - the Wail mentioned it:
Good post, James.
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