The 11th Hour of the 11th Day of the 11th Month..

After the gaiety of the past few days, there is a much more sombre mood in the castle this morning.
Today I am honouring the memory of an uncle I never knew - William Swinton Young, who died of wounds received in the battle of the Somme in a field hospital in Boulogne in November 1916, aged 18. He was the eldest child and only son in a family of five and known to his parents as Swinton. His baby sister was my mother. He is buried in the military cemetery in Wimereux near Boulogne. I have visited his grave there and was comforted by the peace and orderliness of the place, but it is so very far away from his family and home in Edinburgh.
The letters sent to my grandmother by the chaplain present when he died and his war medals have passed to my safekeeping and I intend to hand them on to my grandson , born last year, who has been given the middle name of Swinton. I hope that my uncle's memory will live on in this little great, great nephew.