Well I didn't start this thread in order to diss the poppy or the sentiment behind wearing it. My great Uncle Jimmy was shot to pieces at Suvla Bay in 1915, aged 19, remembered now just by me and my old mum, even though neither of us knew him, obviously. He's not buried anywhere and, though his name may be carved on some memorial on the Dardanelles and (misspelled for chrissake) in Salford Cathedral, he's lost to the world except in the collective memory of all the people who observe remembrance. Had he grown old and had kids and grandchildren, our family would have been very different and we'd be raising a glass to the memory of an old bugger who, as it turned out, never had the chance to grace us or disgrace us. I can't knock that, though Jack's post chimes with me big time. I find the whole bloody complicated thing very troubling, to be honest. Anyway, my quid went in the tin but my poppy's staying in the drawer. Best I can muster.