It all comes around again, and this year Remembrance was actually on Sunday 11th November, and at eleven o’clock plus or minus we held ourselves quietly and remembered those who ensured we had the chance to make this land as we chose.

The parish council took over the organisation of our village Remembrance ceremony last year for the first time, and this year we added amplified sound for those who read the names, and said the words. When the community gathers in goodly numbers, a quiet voice is easily lost, and this year we were heard from the front to the back.

Although the ceremony is generally Church of England in nature, and the vicar leads the civil Remembrance, people of all faiths and none gave their lives in our service and I am always proud and humbled to be able to stand and present the parish poppy wreath both as the Chair of Council and as a Druid.

There’s no big shout out for Druidry – how would that be respectful? – and apart from a small Awen on my lapel (wholly eclipsed by the Council medallion of office) there’s no outward sign. But I know, and my landscape knows, and my gods know.

Thanks to my good mate Steve for the photo. I look constipated and a damn sight older than I feel, but it’s all good.

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