We didn't make it to any of the ANZAC services yesterday. PB was on the breakfast shift at work and I wasn't brave enough to take the babe to such a big event alone, especially seeing as we've both still got the sniffles.
I've been reading all of your ANZAC Day posts and thinking about what it means to me, as although I've grown up here my ancestry is Polish. There are so many stories that I've been told about what War was like for my family. My mum even remembers being a wee girl at the end of WW2 watching my grandad and uncles trying to defend their farm from German soldiers.
So as well as thinking about all of the Australians and New Zealanders that served our country, the grandparents and great-grandparents of the people around me now, I also think about my own family and how hard it must have been for them, and the bravery of my parents to leave their loved ones behind to give me a better life.
(Image: my uncle on the farm during the 1940s)