Remembrance Day is the only thing that can make our grey cold bleak November weather seem exactly right. The sound of the distant pipes; the few old men who still march to the cenotaph in berets and medals; the young cadets standing with heads bowed and hands crossed on rifles at each corner of the square… But like the brave red poppies of Flanders fields and Remembrance wreaths, those bright red sparks against the grey of rainclouds and gravestones, there’s something indomitably bright in the human spirit.
