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11th

Today is the 11th day of the 11th month. For me, the very saddest day of the year. The loss of life. So needless. The ruination of families. The love, gone forever. You can't fetch any of it back. Most of them, so very, very young. Not even started before the were finished, tragic.

Casting my mind back, I was at, I think, St Andrews in Hertford with 3 Royal Anglian. The (lady!) vicar told us of a boy cadet, who was the regimental flag bearer for Rememberance. It was his first visit to the church, and he was so proud to have the honour of bearing the flag. He came back the next year with that flag draped over his coffin. I openly wept. What can you say to a mother who has lost her teenage son to war? Or his sister or brother or girlfriend? There are no words. It's senseless, and I will never, ever support it, especially when our own shores are not threatened.

Tonight I was supposed to have hit the ground running. Instead, I just hit the ground. I care not a jot. Like the poppies in the dirt, today, many happy memories of Oz have pushed their way through the detrius of Facebook. They are not hidden, but I have not publicised them either. Just awarded myself the indulgence of revelling in happy times past. And feverently believing in more happy times to come.

May the goddesses bless service men, women and animals past and present, and civillians too. May their lights shine a path for those lost. May they alleviate the suffering of those left behind.

May your god be with you.

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maitressep
Call me Madam

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