Part of the reasons I hate the over the top and commercialised poppy shite is that it seems entirely at odds with the dignified remembrance of my friends who are serving, or have served in the armed forces. As a lifelong pacifist, I find more in common with them than the ostentatious 'don't forget about them by looking at me' lot.
On Sunday, I will make my way to George Sq in Glasgow as it's the last service in uniform for one of my oldest friends. Last time I went was the 2018 100th anniversary. As then I will have this running through my head.
Suicide In The Trenches
I knew a simple soldier boy
Who grinned at life in empty joy,
Slept soundly through the lonesome dark,
And whistled early with the lark.
In winter trenches, cowed and glum,
With crumps and lice and lack of rum,
He put a bullet through his brain.
No one spoke of him again.
You smug-faced crowds with kindling eye
Who cheer when soldier lads march by,
Sneak home and pray you'll never know
The hell where youth and laughter go.
Sassoon