I've been thinking lately about what it would be like to have war experience in your history. To have fought in any war, but especially, to be an aging vetern of World War One or Two and have friends dying all around you and remembering back to when friends were literally dying all around you.
We had the singing legioneers at our assembly yesterday. They come every year. There were five less of them this year than there were last year. I had to leave - I had to cry. I held it back but after the assembly I cried. In front of my dad no less. There were tears for these men - singing and being strong in the face of our students and knowing how many funerals they attend. There were also tears for personal reasons. I've felt the spirits of my Grandfathers and my father in law lately. I thought of them - one grandfather who died on November 6th, 1996 and who was a vetern, another grandfather who was too young to fight. I thought of my father in law, who died far too young of cancer and who was in the military. So many gone, so many brave, brave men. And womyn as well.
Made for a soggy birthday at school.

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