In the middle of all the personal angst it has to be said that yesterday was a good day.
I had never done Remembrance Day in that village.
The cenotaph stands in a small square and the sun was shining.
A crowd of about 50 were waiting for me. This swelled to around a hundred at the start.
Someone tried to explain to me that it was a very serious matter and was astonished when I told him that I did actually remember the war and that my husband fought in it.
The atmosphere was amazing. A main road next to the square brought in lots more people who were just passing.
An entire troop of cyclists stopped and stood by. By the end of the service there were around 150 people present
They said The Lords Prayer without hesitation and when I asked them to sing the National Anthem they would have raised the roof if there had been one.
After wards they talked. One man had lost his father at Dunkirk. He cried when I told him that David had owned one of the little ships.
It was a day of remembrance and of gravitas but also of community and story telling.
Lest we forget.
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