Word from Wormingford
For Ronald Blythe, a photo brings to
mind his father, a soldier
REMEMBRANCE Sunday. The old chaps - I include myself - come tosing "I vow to thee, my country". The church aches with Georgiansadness. Medals glitter. Memory holds the door. In the pulpit, Irepeat myself unashamedly; for we all like to sing and hear what wehave heard and sung before. The November day, too, is carefullyunoriginal. I doubt if anyone present can put a face to the nameson the war memorial.
Jesus was against looking back: "Remember Lot's wife!" And,beautifully: "The light ...
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