Brrr.

I went down to the Cenotaph for the Dawn Service today. It was quite cold, with a raise of very cold on the bike ride there which is mostly downhill, and I'm glad I went. I was feeling sad for my Grandad and various Great-Uncles, although it's hard to be solemn and melancholy when the person in the crowd next to you is talking loudly about his landlord problems and high rent. [looks quizzical] Now, I'm in the hyper-awake state you get when you've gotten up rather earlier than you're used to, along with rebound warmth from being out in the cold and now inside with the blood rushing back into your hands.

A short piece from the Laurence Binyon poem "For the Fallen" that always gets quoted:
They shall grow not old, as we that are left grow old:
Age shall not weary them, nor the years condemn.
At the going down of the sun and in the morning
We will remember them.