My uncle served in the last year of WWII, my Dad was a year too young.

When my uncle died, the local vets came in after the sermon, and each placed a poppy on the casket as their bugler played Taps. I'd been managing my emotions in our family's proper stone-faced manner up til then, but that was it: the tears just streamed seeing all those old guys in their caps and medals, come to honour a comrade one last time.

There'll be a moment of silence in this house.