Remembrance Sunday had all the hallmarks of a beautiful November day.
A low-hung, freezing cold, bright sun. Long, sharp shadows. Yellow leaves and smatterings of red poppies.
My feeling is that art has a big part to play in the grim game of war. From photography, to propaganda, to several pieces of theatre I've seen recently that have commented on contemporary warfare.
But there's something about WW2 British propaganda posters that I find particularly arresting. There's something strangely nostalgic about them, even though I never experienced the era.
My favourite is this one, created by artist Harold Forster, who was known for his illustrations on pre-war Black Magic chocolate boxes.
The slogan seems quite chauvinistic in today's context, but I'm just captivated by the female figure. She looks a little bit like she could have been either of my fabulously glamorous grandmothers.