Remembrance Sunday

History wasn't my favourite subject at school.  I could never seem to remember dates, which seemed then to be what it was all about.

I don't think it helped that the only subjects we seemed to be taught - Tudors and Stuarts and the Reformation - appeared so remote from our lives.

It wasn't until I got much older, and watched Horrible Histories with my daughter and various Dan Snow documentaries, that I discovered how interesting it could be.

I now read historical fiction for pleasure, particularly Robert Harris novels.  I've just read this, by Cicero, quoted in Dictator:  "To be ignorant of what occurred before you were born is to remain always a child.  For what is the worth of human life, unless it is woven into the life of our ancestors by the records of history?"

The truth is, without learning about our history and passing this on to future generations, we are destined to repeat the same mistakes.

That, for me, is the message of Remembrance Sunday.  It is vital that we remember the lives that were lost in order for us to have our freedom today.  Equally, we must ensure that we never again endure the loss of life on such a massive scale.

This year's Remembrance Sunday was bright but bitingly cold, just as I remember them being way back when I was a Brownie and then a Guide, my mother insistent on me cramming as many layers under my uniform as I could as no coats were allowed on parade.

I thought of this as I saw the Beavers and Cubs in their uniforms, proudly parading behind Gretton Silver Band, as they made their way from the Baptist Church down to the Village Green and the War Memorial for the wreath laying ceremony.

Two Audi cars had to stop and wait as a high-viz jacket-clad man halted the traffic in order to let the column of about 100 people march solemnly to the sound of the bass drum.  Symbolic, perhaps, but also an example of how far we've come.