It was strange this morning, in the supermarket.
I knew Booths were observing the two minute silence at 11am for Remembrance Sunday. I didn't have my watch on, but had arrived shortly before 11am.
I was waiting for the tannoy announcement, but there wasn't one. It didn't take me long to realise that everyone else was standing still, respectfully silent. I stopped rummaging about in the fresh chickens and joined them.
I thought, as I always do, of my late grandfather. He was born on what was to become Armistice Day, 11th November. Luckily he was too young to fight in the First World War and too old to fight in the Second World War.
My thoughts turned to those serving today, in conflicts around the world. Some people may not agree with the reasons for going to war, but these men and women are putting their lives at risk every single day in the hope of peace.
Then, my eyes stinging with tears, I thought of their mothers.
Millions of mothers (and fathers) throughout history have sent their children away to war, not knowing if they will see them again. Waiting each day for a letter or a dreaded telegram.
I am grateful for the sacrifices made by previous generations. I hope and pray that I never have to wave my sons off to war.
Lest we forget.
