Not a day goes by, we'll that's not quite right. Reality is more than a day and less than a week that I don't give thanks for living where and when I do, and for all those whose sacrifices mean I can do so.
I can, and do criticise the gub'mint of the day, practice my faith without fear or persecution. I have a roof over my family's heads and enough money for food, iPads and all the luxuries I wanted.
Sure I work hard and I am fortunate enough to have a job, but I still remember.
Yes I might be some ex REMF who never got near a front line but hopefully the engines I fixed bought someone back safe and sound, job done.
What someone chooses to wear or not on their clothes on one day,or a few makes no damn difference to me.
I remember, damn right I do, my son will grow up knowing that on some days daddy is not ashamed to be in floods of tears in church, and that after the last post, when the service is all done, daddy is stepping outside to hoist a large malt, thankful that he can do so.
Here's to you, men and women in uniform, past and present. Your sacrifice will not be forgotten, not on my watch. I've spent enough time around you all to know that now is the time to retire to the bar, mine's a Glenfiddich.