As the sun rose on a cold, silent morning at Anzac Cove, ?the mist swirled around us. Overlooking the beach we felt the ghosts of the ANZACS. We walked through the trenches and at Lone Pine we cried for the wasted lives.

Julie, my friend, and I visited Gallipoli as part of a backpacking trip in 1988 – way before there was a paved road to Anzac Cove! There was no seating for an ANZAC Day service. There was nothing much at all then. Except the silence, the mist, the trenches and the ghosts.

My father and son have marched together for my grandfather, Dad’s chest full of medals, my son’s chest swelled with pride. Dad wearing his Coastal Patrol uniform, my son wearing his Scout uniform.

All over Australia, people gather at cenotaphs, memorials and RSL Clubs to remember the soldiers who fought in the wars.?All over Australia, grandfathers (and dads) sit glued to the TV, watching the march of veterans and their descendants.?All over Australia, people gather at beaches and parks to enter the thong-throwing contest and?eat sausage sizzles.

It’s a public holiday and in more recent times, a day to celebrate being Australian (with a nod to the Kiwis who helped the cause).

Hope you enjoy an Anzac biscuit or two (definitely NOT a cookie!) and a beer on the day.

If you are suffering from grief, anxiety or depression, remember that talking about it often helps, as can a session or two with me.

Lest we forget


ANZAC Day March