Never Forget

In the run up to remembrance Sunday I have been trying to find a poppy widget - with no luck, so I decided to put an image up instead. I could not believe it when I saw this image, the wording is that of the tattoo my boyfriend Adam has tattooed on the inside of his arm. He had this done earlier this year when he came back from Afghan - he is a Royal Marine.

(This picture was taken a few hours after having it done, it looks nice now)

The wording is a quote by Laurence Binyon, it is part of a long verse which is read out at repatriations and military funerals. Adam was present at a couple of repatriations during his time in Afghan, he lost 3 friends out their during his tour, and then a lad from his company upon return.

Here is his latest work photo (he was air brushed - he had a spot!), he is a PTI (gets the new recruits fit). I'm so very proud of him. x

I am from a forces family, several generations of my family have served in the different forces throughout the different conflict's which our country has been involved in. All our service's do such a fantastic job - they should be remembered more often - and never forgotten.

For The Fallen:

With proud thanksgiving, a mother for her children, England mourns for her dead across the sea. Flesh of her flesh they were, spirit of her spirit, Fallen in the cause of the free.

Solemn the drums thrill; Death august and royal Sings sorrow up into immortal spheres, There is music in the midst of desolation And a glory that shines upon our tears.
They went with songs to the battle, they were young, Straight of limb, true of eye, steady and aglow. They were staunch to the end against odds uncounted; They fell with their faces to the foe.

They shall grow not old, as we that are left grow old: Age shall not weary them, nor the years contemn. At the going down of the sun and in the morning We will remember them.
They mingle not with their laughing comrades again; They sit no more at familiar tables of home; They have no lot in our labour of the day-time; They sleep beyond England's foam.
But where our desires are and our hopes profound, Felt as a well-spring that is hidden from sight, To the innermost heart of their own land they are known As the stars are known to the Night;

As the stars that shall be bright when we are dust, Moving in marches upon the heavenly plain; As the stars that are starry in the time of our darkness, To the end, to the end, they remain.