I find that I have come to find some peace in the quiet introspection that comes with marking the Armistice at the 11th hour. There is no build up (other than keeping an eye on the clock or radio in preparation). There is no religion nor any need for it. No pomp. It is a pure act of remembrance, a solitary commemoration. And for 2 minutes it's possible to think of anything - ice cream, cars, blisters - but thoughts go back to the hundreds of thousands who died a century ago, the years in between, and those who die today even though their physical war ended 20, 30 years ago. In my mind I see the rows of white stone, the rows of crosses, the rows of dark squares I've recently come to learn about, I see a face of a gone too soon friend. And I wonder how I would feel in
the noise, (there's always noise whether it's in the air, on the land, or in and under the sea) in the depths of any war. and how the fear would feel. All the time, aware of a stillness even though I may hear traffic and everyday noises.Then when the cannon sounds, I 'surface', perhaps a little selfconsciously, and go back to my normal life.
