The eleventh hour will, thanks to the time difference, be at 6am tomorrow (later today, actually), but as with every other year, wherever I am, whatever I'm doing, I will be thinking of those who didn't come back.
Too often, patriotism becomes confused with jingoism, and words like "honour", "duty", "sacrifice" and "valour" become dirtied in the mouths of politicians who seek to twist them for their own ends. One of the things I try to remember is that we do owe these people. Not because some politician wants us to, but because they fought.
I doubt that many fought for freedom - it's too nebulous a concept. But to fight and die for family, for friends, for countrymen and women, to fight to protect those and that which you love, that is the sacrifice they made.
I'm not interested in comparing or contrasting the previous wars with the current war in Iraq, too much of that is being done already.
I honour those that fought and died for my country. I honour them by deciding issues for myself. I honour them by demanding accountability for those who would send off the next generation of kids to fight and die for their political careers. I am a patriot. I remember.
I can't get a poppy over here, but it's only missing from my lapel.