Remembrance Day: a day to remember those who gave their lives for our freedom. Such a poignant if distant concept. Personally, I have never felt the touch of war. I have the utmost respect for those who do sacrifice so much, yet I feel removed from it. Within that minute of silence I attempt to visualise what it must feel like to face conflict in an unfamiliar place. Flashing across my mind are the brutal battle scenes of 'Enemy at the Gates' and 'Saving Private Ryan', interjected with dusty BBC news reports. I claw desperately at something to make the horrific reality tangible. Today I got that.
During this united moment of reflection I found myself sat in Costa. As the town hall clock struck eleven and the staff stopped serving, I with the rest of the customers, put down our coffee cups and respectfully bowed our heads. On the next table this action was exaggerated, heavier, and after normal business resumed I stole a glance to find an old man with his head in his hands.
As humdrum was reignited the old man got a handkerchief from his pocket and mopped at his eyes. The chair opposite him was occupied with a quilted beige winter coat and only as he retrieved it and put it on did I notice the jingle of medals it carried.
Remembrance became real today. I don't know what memory led this frail man in his woollen jumper and hearing aid to shed the tears that he did, but I do know that I am indebted to him for whatever he has been though. In the midst of that busy coffee shop the impact of war was felt this morning.
