Everyone has a story. At coffee this morning, I heard a great one recounted by the great niece of Andrew Barton Patterson, aka Banjo. He went to the Boer War as a correspondent having requested two horses from John Fairfax with whom he was good friends. When he visited the horses in their stalls at Circular Quay before the ship's departure, he noted with concern, that they were sliding around on the wooden floor. He returned to the Australia Club, the beautiful original one, and removed the large carpet from the entrance hall, put it in a hansom cab and took it to the Quay, where he promptly cut it in half, giving each horse a steady surface for their long journey. He left a letter for the club claiming responsibility for the removal of the carpet. He requested that, should he not return, the cost of the carpet be taken from his estate. The Australia Club have that letter today. He also went to the First World War, as a remount officer, working with the horses who needed to be trained to work under continual gunfire. Like a lot of amazing men, his name does not appear in the war records, because he survived. Funny isn't it? You only get your name in lights if you died. Those who worked for the whole time, and returned are not remembered anywhere in particular .... and yet theirs was an enormous sacrifice. They came back, put it behind them as best they could, and took over where the world had left off. They relieved some of the women, and rebuilt the countries again.... I hope that in the Anzac services around Australia on Wednesday, many of the very elderly gentlemen who sit in the front rows will be accorded the gratitude that we all feel, together with those who have departed this life in the last decade. Let's not just focus on those who gave the ultimate sacrifice at the time of war, but also on those who gave their very all so that we might have the life we lead today. Dad Mum and Lizzie , I will march for you on Wednesday with great pride.