For many of you, my trip to Milan is now old news. I did, however, deem it worthy of an entry. Plus there was little else going on that I thought worth writing about, so I thought it best to hold Thursday's entry over to today.
There were to be three of us spending the weekend there; myself, a friend of mine from Keele and a friend of ours we met on the MUN circuit at Edinburgh last year. The chap from Edinburgh is actually studying Spanish and Italian and had picked Milan for his semester studying Spanish.
So to Friday and the journey out. Not too eventful, we arrived at Gatwick in plenty of time, checked in without a hitch and departed more or less on time to Milan Linate. We met Chris and went by bus to Milan Centrale railway station to pick up our train tickets for our trip to Verona the following day. Chris and Phil had also discussed watching an AC Milan match on the Sunday and we went to a bank to pick up some tickets. Yes did you did read that right, the banks sell tickets to football matches and at (consternation!) decent prices. I did think that the security system was a little over-zealous, concerning one entry chamber (best description I can give) nearly amputated my arm at the elbow as I manoeuvred our large suitcase into the building. Tickets were not purchased either, as a problem arose in paying and so we left to check Phil and I into our hotel.
This led to our first encounter with the Milanese transport system and it didn't disappoint. Efficient underground trains and buses sped us around the city, but not leaving us feeling at all hurried. However we made our mistake that Friday in catching the Metro and then walking to the hotel for a good fifteen minutes. Thankfully the hotel was worth it; Phil and I had a spacious room, good sized beds and English-language news. After a brief respite, we set out for the city itself to begin our expedition properly. Those of you with access to my Facebook account will have hopefully seen the pictures, so not much of a picture needs painting. For those of you who don't, Milan is absolutely amazing. Such a cosmopolitan beacon shining out in southern Europe; it deserves every hyperbolic word written about it. I exhort each and every one of you reading this to go at some point in your lives.
I should make mention of the lunch we took on the Via Dante. Death by pizza seems most accurate to describe it, eight euro each and the things were enormous. Chris heroically polished his off, I managed about three quarters before nobly surrendering. The afternoon was taken up with photography and attempting to cure my ears of the post-flight clog. Phil and I headed back to the hotel early to finish our unpacking and get an early night, as we were due to catch the 8:25 to Verona.
Saturday dawned slightly cloudy, but we kept our hopes high as we made our way on our speedy bus and Metro journeys to Milan Centrale. We had arranged to meet Chris there and then catch the train. Slight snag, Chris had only woken up at 8:20 and feared he wouldn't be with us/ After some careful re-planning, he agreed to catch a later train and meet us in Verona. Ah, Verona! Famous to Anglophones for being the setting of two Shakespeare plays, among other things. The weather had significantly improved on our arrival and so Phil and I whiled away out wait for Chris by going for a brief walk and shoot. Verona station being only fifteen minutes walk from the main town square, we decided not to stray far from there.
Verona is one of the most authentic Italian cities I have visited. Situated on the edge of Veneto province, not in Lombardy as I had thought, the architecture lends itself to the Venetian tradition. Worthy places to visit include the Piazza Erbe and, of course, the Capulet house, the very place forming the basis for Romeo and Juliet. Many romantics have daubed the entry to the courtyard overlooked by the famous balcony with various graffiti. Definitely worth the visit, should you be in the region.
The journey back was a little fraught, as we were caught by an over-zealous ticket inspector. The way the Italian ticketing system works is a variant on the French, in that one validates one's ticket at a yellow machine affixed to platform entries. Foreigners unused to this system may well walk past these machines as Phil and I did at Centrale, until our conductor instructed us otherwise. No such machines exist at Verona and so we were unable to validate our return ticket. Sadly at an outer station near Milan we were caught with said ticket and all I can say is thank God for British indomitability and Chris' language skills. The inspector was clearly taken aback by our refusal to be cowed and our grudging voluntary gesture of showing him ID and giving our names. We were still threatened with a fine of €42.90 each and advised us to take the matter up at Centrale. Fine as yet unpaid, we sought assistance from an Italian Railways employee at the main desk. He was clearly outraged by our story and advised us to take it up with the local company desk, advising us that there would be no fine. On the walk there, still expostulating amongst ourselves, I called the inspector a "wretched clipper Jonny" and the phrase somehow stuck. In the end we were given a toll-free number to call and decided to let the matter drop. I am now going to use the phrase "clipper Jonny" for any kind of jobsworth.
Sunday looked to be a very cloudy day and indeed remained so for part of the day. Spirits by no means dampened, we met at the Galleria Vittorio Emmanuele after Phil and I had spent the morning photographing the Castello Sforzesco and planned our strategy for the rest of the day. Chris and Phil were eager to get to the Inter game, so they left me to my own devices. I took a long walk, out from the Galleria cafe where I'd been having coffee, past the San Fidele church, out towards the Arche Porto Nuova and back into town. I then headed back to the hotel to charge up my phone. At around half three I headed again and still having time on my hands, I decided to go up to the roof of the Duomo, an experience I missed on the Friday due to my fear of heights. However I did excellently and managed to get halfway up before losing nerve and scuttling back down.
We ate that night in the Rinascente, a rather upmarket department store next to the Duomo. The food hall there is amazing and our chosen venue offered the most delicious meat dishes. It also showcased various mustards on sale in the food hall and I admit I was tempted by a jar of the cognac mustard I put on my food.
Monday was cloudy and didn't improve much. We did little that morning, except some more shopping during which I bought some presents for my family. Phil then, after a quick lunch and gelato, went to see a friend of his and Chris accompanied me to the Basilica San Marco. I'd seen it the previous day on my walk and had wanted to photograph the interior, but was unable to do so, due to a curious service mixed between Catholic liturgy and evangelism taking place. It was sadly closed and so we abandoned the project, Chris walking with me back to the Duomo.
So to the airport that night, going to Milan Malpensa for the flight back to Gatwick. All went smoothly, no sign of any clipper Jonnies on the train at all. Returned to Wiltshire in the early hours of the morning (almost with a traffic cone which had gone rogue) and slept soundly.
So much for "What I did on my Holidays", for something very grave happened while we were out there of which now you're all aware. The shooting at the Ozar Hatorah school in Toulouse on Monday, which to all of us would be absolutely disgraceful, made worse by the clear anti-Semitic motives behind it. Such barbarism flies in the face of France's commitment to accommodate all peoples from all cultures, races and creeds. A trigger was pulled at a nation and at time of writing the suspect is holed up in an apartment in Toulouse. All priase goes to the French authorities and agencies for tracking him down so quickly and the commendable response of the wider global community. This truly is an act which cannot ever go unpunished and I certainly hope that this man is brought fully to book.
A piece of good news, however, is that we are to finally lose the Archbishop of Canterbury. The man who for so long has ensured the erosion of Christian ideals and standards in favour of fashionable Leftist causes in England and Wales will be gone at the end of the year. I was excited to hear the announcement on Friday and look forward to an Anglican taking the helm of our established church once again.
Wednesday, 21 March 2012
Thursday, 8 March 2012
Now Pay Attention
Firstly, I shall apologise for my lack of posts over the past months. I didn't realise my following was as avid as it was, so I shall make a better effort from now on.
Right, now on to a couple of things which have caught my attention and I believe warrant a comment or several. I don't think I'll inject much levity on either issue, neither merits it. You may laugh anyway, I know it's how I tell 'em. Are you sitting comfortably? Then I'll begin.
Gay marriage has been featured a lot since this weekend, especially surrounding the completely idiotic comments made by Cardinal Keith O'Brien, Archbishop of Edinburgh and St Andrews. On the Today programme on Monday he compared it to the slave trade and said it would "shame the United Kingdom". Well Your Eminence, have you ever thought that such views are themselves shameful? In a century where we are all the time forging ahead to promote tolerance and understanding, it is not at all helpful to express such opinions publicly.
Not that I'm outright condemning opposition to gay marriage. I know that now we have the Civil Partnership Act and under that same-sex unions are held to be legally valid that should be enough. But it isn't and nor in fact should it be. Marriage is more than a piece of paper tying two people together for what ought to be the rest of their lives. Marriage for many is an emotive subject -- if you just want your partner not to have so much hassle when you're on your deathbed and afterwards then a civil union is the way forward, for anyone of any sexual orientation. To be married means that you have every intention of being together with your chosen person for the rest of your natural lives, not just sharing assets.
For myself as an out gay man, I can see why people want this, although I personally would be happy with just a civil partnership. But this is an argument about social justice, because marriage is also a social contract. People will doubtless come back to me and say "what do you understand about marriage?" I will then reply, "what does your average cardinal understand about it beyond Christian dogma?" And therein lies the heart of it, at least in my view.
By extension, and this is something I picked up in the Telegraph yesterday, there is the worry that traditional family life is being eroded. Children being brought up by (shock!) parents of the same gender. Those parents may have even had a (oh no!) same-sex marriage performed in a church. So? To those of you who think sexuality is either taught or inherited, you clearly believe that the First World War could have been easily avoided or Hitler was a misunderstood individual with bad parents. Parenting is about being able to bring a child up in a stable and loving environment with clearly-defined rules and boundaries. There are heterosexuals readily parading their bad parenting around and yet it is still largely frowned upon if two gay people wish to bring up a kid or three. Of course nobody can say they'd be better than their hetero' counterparts, but we should encourage more gay couples to come forward to either foster or adopt and have their chance.
And now for something else, on an unrelated subject. The campaign surrounding the Ugandan warlord Joseph Kony. Made by an American to highlight the plight of Ugandan child soldiers on behalf of Invisible Children, an international organisation whose aim is to promote the well-being of children who would otherwise be ignored, it is without doubt the worst effort I have seen made involved with anything ever. It is total drivel. Here's why.
Firstly, Joseph Kony himself is known and wanted by the International Criminal Court, a body not recognised -- interestingly -- by the US. The ICC only has the power to prosecute once those who have been indicted by it have been brought before it. Kony has been at large in Uganda kidnapping boys and abusing girls for around two decades and so far nobody has decided to infringe Uganda's sovereignty to go and stop him. So on that point, the campaign fails.
Its aim is to go viral and show the world what a terrible state Ugandan children are in. Not that Swazi children who are likely to be born with AIDS and (if they're a girl) sexually abused from infancy are much better off, or children from other parts of Africa brought into the households of Africans living in the West to work as slaves. Nope, Uganda is currently the cause celebre we should all have concern for. Tripe.
Invisible Children has already been condemned for not spending even half of its holdings on direct action. Figures suggest that out of a fund of roughly $8.6 million, over two-thirds went on staff salaries, travel, transport and film production. Jezebel.com (from whence I produced my figures) labels this campaign as the "meme du jour". They're not far wrong.
Right, now on to a couple of things which have caught my attention and I believe warrant a comment or several. I don't think I'll inject much levity on either issue, neither merits it. You may laugh anyway, I know it's how I tell 'em. Are you sitting comfortably? Then I'll begin.
Gay marriage has been featured a lot since this weekend, especially surrounding the completely idiotic comments made by Cardinal Keith O'Brien, Archbishop of Edinburgh and St Andrews. On the Today programme on Monday he compared it to the slave trade and said it would "shame the United Kingdom". Well Your Eminence, have you ever thought that such views are themselves shameful? In a century where we are all the time forging ahead to promote tolerance and understanding, it is not at all helpful to express such opinions publicly.
Not that I'm outright condemning opposition to gay marriage. I know that now we have the Civil Partnership Act and under that same-sex unions are held to be legally valid that should be enough. But it isn't and nor in fact should it be. Marriage is more than a piece of paper tying two people together for what ought to be the rest of their lives. Marriage for many is an emotive subject -- if you just want your partner not to have so much hassle when you're on your deathbed and afterwards then a civil union is the way forward, for anyone of any sexual orientation. To be married means that you have every intention of being together with your chosen person for the rest of your natural lives, not just sharing assets.
For myself as an out gay man, I can see why people want this, although I personally would be happy with just a civil partnership. But this is an argument about social justice, because marriage is also a social contract. People will doubtless come back to me and say "what do you understand about marriage?" I will then reply, "what does your average cardinal understand about it beyond Christian dogma?" And therein lies the heart of it, at least in my view.
By extension, and this is something I picked up in the Telegraph yesterday, there is the worry that traditional family life is being eroded. Children being brought up by (shock!) parents of the same gender. Those parents may have even had a (oh no!) same-sex marriage performed in a church. So? To those of you who think sexuality is either taught or inherited, you clearly believe that the First World War could have been easily avoided or Hitler was a misunderstood individual with bad parents. Parenting is about being able to bring a child up in a stable and loving environment with clearly-defined rules and boundaries. There are heterosexuals readily parading their bad parenting around and yet it is still largely frowned upon if two gay people wish to bring up a kid or three. Of course nobody can say they'd be better than their hetero' counterparts, but we should encourage more gay couples to come forward to either foster or adopt and have their chance.
And now for something else, on an unrelated subject. The campaign surrounding the Ugandan warlord Joseph Kony. Made by an American to highlight the plight of Ugandan child soldiers on behalf of Invisible Children, an international organisation whose aim is to promote the well-being of children who would otherwise be ignored, it is without doubt the worst effort I have seen made involved with anything ever. It is total drivel. Here's why.
Firstly, Joseph Kony himself is known and wanted by the International Criminal Court, a body not recognised -- interestingly -- by the US. The ICC only has the power to prosecute once those who have been indicted by it have been brought before it. Kony has been at large in Uganda kidnapping boys and abusing girls for around two decades and so far nobody has decided to infringe Uganda's sovereignty to go and stop him. So on that point, the campaign fails.
Its aim is to go viral and show the world what a terrible state Ugandan children are in. Not that Swazi children who are likely to be born with AIDS and (if they're a girl) sexually abused from infancy are much better off, or children from other parts of Africa brought into the households of Africans living in the West to work as slaves. Nope, Uganda is currently the cause celebre we should all have concern for. Tripe.
Invisible Children has already been condemned for not spending even half of its holdings on direct action. Figures suggest that out of a fund of roughly $8.6 million, over two-thirds went on staff salaries, travel, transport and film production. Jezebel.com (from whence I produced my figures) labels this campaign as the "meme du jour". They're not far wrong.
Monday, 28 November 2011
From Sheffield, With Love
For those of you who I hadn't bored in sounding like a self-important housewife over the past week or so, I shall make mention of this event one last time. I attended the Northern CF Christmas dinner in Sheffield at the weekend. Solves the title mystery at any rate.
In all it was rather good fun, getting dressed up in the ever-faithful dinner suit and sitting round in a very nice hotel in the middle of the city eating and drinking (mostly the latter) with like-minded individuals on Saturday evening. A big mention to Chester branch who sold the most tickets and won a bottle of champers. Just goes to show what happens when you make an effort. However, I do think that the food deserves a few words and I'm afraid not all positive. I did find I was struggling to find the flavour in the soup and in much of the second course. Whether or not the chef was having a bad night or it was just my taste buds I'm not entirely sure. One thing that has come from this weekend, however, is the resolution that I must try to actually spend some real time in Sheffield, having only ever been there once before to visit the university six years ago.
I should also make mention of the accommodation I managed to find. I decided to ignore the two very dismal reviews given on the website and press on with paying the £16 fee for the bed in the dorm room I was to share. Although the person on duty on Saturday was eager and happy to help, he clearly had little idea about running a hostel at all. A gentlemen with a severe disability was sold a room (the only one with a lock on the door by the sound of it) on the ground floor, however the lock was not in fact in use and a locksmith had to be called. The gentleman did, however, heroically knuckle up the stairs to have a look at the room I was in. Being present at the time, I decided to say nothing on the subject, for fear of being seen to be prejudiced or patronising.
I shall also take some time to mention the sterling work Liverpool CF are doing in the village of Woolton. I was with them and some others from Chester on Saturday doing a leaflet drop before haring off to Sheffield. They're clearly dedicated and with enough support and devoted time and energy, they have a really good chance at turning another ward blue.
That's about it for now. Oh and one more thing; don't judge the Occupy movement too harshly. It's not totally anti-capitalist and its members should actually be listened to.
Thursday, 17 November 2011
A Pre-Winter's Tale
Like so many of you discerning people out there among the codes and cables, I love Christmas. Scuttling through December weekend afternoons clutching bags and wondering if it isn't too early to dive into somewhere warm and snug for a glass or three of mulled wine; such experiences or indeed thoughts are sheer heaven. So imagine my disgust and horror each year as the Christmas aisles are set up while the Hallowe'en stuff is still sprawled out and the Bonfire Night fireworks are only freshly unwrapped from their packaging.
This is the time of year for what I call the pre-Christmas boycott. I refuse to recognise Christmas is upon us until 1st December. I do not buy cards nor a single present until that date. The Christmas playlist isn't even lined up until the night of 30th November, but that's just preparation. But when the day itself arrives, that is when I go truly Christmas crackers. People are harangued for gift ideas, I make sure that I have correct addresses and then it's time to hit [insert shopping method as appropriate].
Until tonight. I had no idea they were there until I looked in the cupboard. Not a clue. Not one inkling and then something dreadful happened. So blithe was the action, so innocent in its execution and subsequent movements. And then it hit. After the chewing and the dusting down of hands had subsided, I realised what I had done. THE SEAL WAS BROKEN! The pre-Christmas boycott is now over. I have consumed...a mince pie!!! A whole one! A M&S one (not that it makes much difference, I still ate it).
What's the big deal, you ask? It's only a mince pie after all and if I had only started reading the paragraph above I would entirely agree with you. Had you been good enough to read the first two including the third, you still might be full of some doubts as to why this idiot is waxing morbid about a pastry filled with all sorts of delightful things. Not the point either, I'm afraid. Principles have been compromised; I don't do anything remotely Christmassy until December. Mince pies in November, ah well best get out the address book, calibrate the iPod and start planning gifts (already done, so the offence is somewhat compounded, but it is only planning, haven't gone shopping, that would be a sacrilege).
Thankfully I'm an Anglican and can look at it like this; it was a sheer moment of madness, I'm clearly only human and am given to such temptations. I was found wanting, but why be strong when to have weakness to force oneself to find strength? I feel a little better now; not that I'm going to run downstairs and have another (mine was the third out of the box anyway, still doesn't help, does it?)
In other news, isn't that business over Northern Rock ghastly?
This is the time of year for what I call the pre-Christmas boycott. I refuse to recognise Christmas is upon us until 1st December. I do not buy cards nor a single present until that date. The Christmas playlist isn't even lined up until the night of 30th November, but that's just preparation. But when the day itself arrives, that is when I go truly Christmas crackers. People are harangued for gift ideas, I make sure that I have correct addresses and then it's time to hit [insert shopping method as appropriate].
Until tonight. I had no idea they were there until I looked in the cupboard. Not a clue. Not one inkling and then something dreadful happened. So blithe was the action, so innocent in its execution and subsequent movements. And then it hit. After the chewing and the dusting down of hands had subsided, I realised what I had done. THE SEAL WAS BROKEN! The pre-Christmas boycott is now over. I have consumed...a mince pie!!! A whole one! A M&S one (not that it makes much difference, I still ate it).
What's the big deal, you ask? It's only a mince pie after all and if I had only started reading the paragraph above I would entirely agree with you. Had you been good enough to read the first two including the third, you still might be full of some doubts as to why this idiot is waxing morbid about a pastry filled with all sorts of delightful things. Not the point either, I'm afraid. Principles have been compromised; I don't do anything remotely Christmassy until December. Mince pies in November, ah well best get out the address book, calibrate the iPod and start planning gifts (already done, so the offence is somewhat compounded, but it is only planning, haven't gone shopping, that would be a sacrilege).
Thankfully I'm an Anglican and can look at it like this; it was a sheer moment of madness, I'm clearly only human and am given to such temptations. I was found wanting, but why be strong when to have weakness to force oneself to find strength? I feel a little better now; not that I'm going to run downstairs and have another (mine was the third out of the box anyway, still doesn't help, does it?)
In other news, isn't that business over Northern Rock ghastly?
Saturday, 12 November 2011
Wednesday, 9 November 2011
Through the Looking-Glass
So a lot going on the moment, mostly people taking the rap for the actions of others and a general clearing-up of crap.
The Euro, for example, seems to fuse the two. I am fully behind Angela Merkel and her government in attempting to keep Germany out of bailing out the profligate nations on the periphery of Europe. Hopefully government by technocrat might be the saving grace for Greece and Italy, who are among the worst offenders. Ironically the man who helped the Greeks tell their lie in joining the Euro is now their head of government. I suppose it's only right that the person responsible for the mess helps to clear it up. I cannot speak directly to the man appointed in Italy, save for that he's never been directly elected to the Italian legislature.
It is still my fervent hope that the Euro will be phased out and the EU shown for what it is. This kind of erratic behaviour with meeting after meeting cannot be sustained. The peoples of Europe will surely not stand much more. I will however echo the Telegraph and urge the Prime Minister to gather the other 9 non-Euro countries beside the UK into our own bloc and attempt to show that sustainable economic growth can be achieved on one's own fiscal terms, rather than blindly entering into a currency union which is underpinned by one member's economy rather than all 17.
Our own Home Secretary came under heavy and sustained fire this week for her alleged involvement in the UK Border Agency scandal. The pious yammering which once again emanated from the Labour front bench was entirely sickening. When Red Ed was elected and his Shadow Cabinet nominated, did they then re-set the clocks once more? I know Labour's recent troubles with history and all, but I think that some kind of memory erasure went on. One would certainly think so the way Yvette Cooper went for Teresa May.
It is convenient for new governments to blame their predecessors 18 months after an election. Fourteen years of misrule and they dare to call us out on errors made by officials. Sanctimony and smugness are by-words for this Labour party and it is high time that they remember the difficulties of government and the fact that we are in coalition with a party which would normally be opposed to our policies. Labour was never held to ransom because they had a clear majority in the House; there may come a time they too will feel the sting of compromise.
The Euro, for example, seems to fuse the two. I am fully behind Angela Merkel and her government in attempting to keep Germany out of bailing out the profligate nations on the periphery of Europe. Hopefully government by technocrat might be the saving grace for Greece and Italy, who are among the worst offenders. Ironically the man who helped the Greeks tell their lie in joining the Euro is now their head of government. I suppose it's only right that the person responsible for the mess helps to clear it up. I cannot speak directly to the man appointed in Italy, save for that he's never been directly elected to the Italian legislature.
It is still my fervent hope that the Euro will be phased out and the EU shown for what it is. This kind of erratic behaviour with meeting after meeting cannot be sustained. The peoples of Europe will surely not stand much more. I will however echo the Telegraph and urge the Prime Minister to gather the other 9 non-Euro countries beside the UK into our own bloc and attempt to show that sustainable economic growth can be achieved on one's own fiscal terms, rather than blindly entering into a currency union which is underpinned by one member's economy rather than all 17.
Our own Home Secretary came under heavy and sustained fire this week for her alleged involvement in the UK Border Agency scandal. The pious yammering which once again emanated from the Labour front bench was entirely sickening. When Red Ed was elected and his Shadow Cabinet nominated, did they then re-set the clocks once more? I know Labour's recent troubles with history and all, but I think that some kind of memory erasure went on. One would certainly think so the way Yvette Cooper went for Teresa May.
It is convenient for new governments to blame their predecessors 18 months after an election. Fourteen years of misrule and they dare to call us out on errors made by officials. Sanctimony and smugness are by-words for this Labour party and it is high time that they remember the difficulties of government and the fact that we are in coalition with a party which would normally be opposed to our policies. Labour was never held to ransom because they had a clear majority in the House; there may come a time they too will feel the sting of compromise.
Saturday, 5 November 2011
Remember, Remember
We read a lot and hear as much about Bonfire Night and Remembrance Day, both of which occur in November. Then I got to thinking about what other events in our island story have taken place in this most autumnal of months and wondered how many would be enough to warrant the creation of a British History Month. I found a few in my trawl of Wikipedia and other sources, so I shall list some:
The incorporation of Plymouth on 12 November 1439 by the English Parliament (first town to be incorporated)
The first BBC broadcast on 14 November 1922
The accession of Elizabeth I of England on 17 November 1558
The publication of Darwin's On the Origin of Species 24 November 1859
The first ever international football match took place on 29 November 1872 between England and Scotland
There are other events, of course, however I wished to show that not all history involves the births and deaths of the great and the good. History touches all of us, as has been shown by the two global conflicts which sees the sale of millions of poppies and the thousands who gather at cenotaphs up and down the country. November gives Britons cause to remember, so let us throw the net wider and remember those who not only have sacrificed themselves but who have each done something to help put the "Great" into Great Britain.
The incorporation of Plymouth on 12 November 1439 by the English Parliament (first town to be incorporated)
The first BBC broadcast on 14 November 1922
The accession of Elizabeth I of England on 17 November 1558
The publication of Darwin's On the Origin of Species 24 November 1859
The first ever international football match took place on 29 November 1872 between England and Scotland
There are other events, of course, however I wished to show that not all history involves the births and deaths of the great and the good. History touches all of us, as has been shown by the two global conflicts which sees the sale of millions of poppies and the thousands who gather at cenotaphs up and down the country. November gives Britons cause to remember, so let us throw the net wider and remember those who not only have sacrificed themselves but who have each done something to help put the "Great" into Great Britain.
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