Lest We Forget

I can’t help feeling entirely relieved now that this obscene football-poppy shambles has reached some form of resolution. I have to say it was becoming utterly ridiculous. I had feared it was fast morphing into yet another hideous row over race and politics.

Wear a poppy. Don’t wear a poppy. It is just so unbelievably unimportant. The 11^th November is REMEMBRANCE day. A day when we REMEMBER. We remember the brave soldiers who fought and died in the First World War. We remember all the service men and women who were enlisted into World War Two. We remember every child without a parent, every mother and father without a child, husbands and wives without their soul mates. We remember those whose lives were lost during war, those who were injured fighting, and those who lost loved ones. We remember all the people affected by all the wars.

These days lots of people choose to use the day to honour the many men, women and children lost, injured, widowed and orphaned by the recent conflicts. I personally don’t, instead choosing to reflect on the earlier wars where soldiers had no choice but to fight for their country, but that’s my choice. And I expect that to be respected just as I respect the choices of others. With charities like Help for Heroes and much more general awareness these days I like to think that soldiers and their families have far more options open to them for support. They certainly deserve it. Regardless of this, the Royal British Legion does some amazing work for all kinds of people and relies upon the continued support of the public. Support that is greatly enhanced by the financial contribution gained from purchasing a poppy, and the awareness raised by wearing it.

If anyone ever loses sight of why we wear a poppy in November every year, there is a very simple idea I would put to them. There is a beautiful episode of Blackadder that I think really hits home. I think you will all know exactly the one I mean. It really strikes a chord with me. It reminds me that an enormous amount of people, just like me, marched blindly into a war they didn’t fully understand, prepared to lay down their lives for the basic human rights we all, rightly so, believe we are afforded. It makes a lot of sense to me because it brings to light the reality of war, and indeed life. Sometimes it is funny, because let’s face it, if we didn't look for the humour and joy in each and every little thing we do, none of us would even bother getting out of bed in the morning. But more importantly it shows us the pure spirit and human goodness within the hearts of all those brave men.

So on Friday, wear a poppy if you feel you can. I personally believe that everyone should but I understand and respect that not everyone will. But whether your choice is to both proudly and humbly display a poppy or to leave it for this year, please don’t forget. Don’t forget all the people regardless of race, background, age, political preference, religion, anything, who have been affected by this dreadful disease of war. Those who choose to wear poppies, I hope, will know that in the modern world in which we live, they commemorate everyone the world over, throughout history that has been lost or injured in war.

So let’s not get involved in petty bickering over who should wear what and why. Let’s just, for one day, for one moment, look around us and appreciate how lucky we are. Because not everyone is. And thanks to some people, we will continue to be lucky every day and we will get to kiss our loved ones goodnight every evening. I will never forget the fallen, I hope neither will any of you.