Watching the poppies fall onto the drums on the television tonight I was struck by the thought that as each year passes the memory of what each of those poppies represents grows stronger and their significance greater.

I live in a very small village in rural Perthshire, but the list of those lost in two world wars and inscribed on its memorial shows the depth of the sacrifice that the people of this village made.

Multiply this for every hamlet, village, town, and city in the United Kingdom and imagine if you can those men and women who lost their lives standing by the road outside your house as you go to work on Monday. Imagine them in the railway stations, standing by the motorways or lining up on your favourite High Street.

They gave their lives so that we could enjoy the freedoms they cherished and held dear. The least we can do is ensure that those freedoms are passed unchanged to our children and grandchildren.

And if someone chooses to avert their eyes from what war means and what it costs in human suffering, remind them that war itself has no glory and should be given none, only those who have and are still fighting it on our behalf, can claim that.