Remembering the Dead, and the Living

The 11th hour of the 11th day of the 11th month is when we take two single minutes to reflect on others who gave their lives or health so that we might continue our life the way we choose.

A single poppy, a moment's silence. It isn't much to show we care.

Around the UK, in cities, villages and hamlets, people remembering a loved one will be visiting their local war memorial to leave a small wooden cross with a poppy attached, often with a personal name and a battalion title written on the wood, a date and a place.

But not all urban areas have or need such a site.

Close to where I live is the village of Catwick. It's only a small village, ninety seconds' drive from end to end, yet it sent 30 young men to World War 1. The local blacksmith, John Hugill, attached a 'lucky' horseshoe to his forge's door and around it nailed a coin for each man. All returned.

When World War 2 began John Hugill did the same again. All returned. Catwick has no war memorial, one of the very, very few settlements in the UK.

For more information see http://www.bbc.co.uk/news/magazine-15671943