The ode.

They shall grow not old, as we that are left grow old:

Age shall not weary them, nor the years condemn.

At the going down of the sun and in the morning,

We will remember them.

This post, is not the last post. But, it's the first that won't try to politicise or relate to a real tragedy. I can't compare the pain and suffering of our fore fathers, There are no puns. There are no guns and no bombs. No one is 'really' dying here. 80 million died in WWII. Many more were injured, or condemned to torment, for the remainder of their natural lives. Sure, our hip pocket is hurting. Not quite the same hurt as a bayonet in your eyeball.

It's a challenge, but jump in the trenches of perspective and reality. Strap your boots on and channel your Grandpa who, literally, had to look a killer in the eye. This is child's play.

I'm up at dawn. I'll cook a gunfire breakfast on the Weber Q (German company?) with eggs, baked beans and lamb and rosemary chipolatas (Thanks Heath). I'll have a rum and milk, close my eyes and try to fathom the reality of our past. We are not going that bad. Take a moment of reflection and thank those who died for us to be young and free.

Seriously, lest we forget. x

193 views0 comments

Recent Posts

See All



Subscribe Form

  • Facebook
  • Twitter
  • LinkedIn

©2020 by HOSPITALITY VETERAN. Proudly created with