This year on ANZAC Day, like every year, I attended the local service with my family. It is a small affair, held at 10am with about 50 of the local residents. The Girl Guides make anzac biscuits to give out after the service, and the school always has a small representative group there. The same ex service man gives a talk each year, giving some humour to his acount of events, he then reads the ode and we listen to the last post followed by two minutes of silence.
It could be considered a routine, a tradition, that one merely follows, but as I hear the boogle play and see the medals worn proudly by old and young alike, the emotions well to the surface.
This is a time of great importance for those who were there, for those waiting at home, and for those of us that can only imagine the event. Lest we forget.
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