Watching the Remembrance Day memorial service in London this morning was like briefly glimpsing through a narrow window into the past. Solemn figures lined Whitehall around the Cenotaph as they have done every year for nearly a century; among them suited politicians, foreign diplomats, war veterans, monarchy (a seemingly declining phenomenon in modernity) and a sea of sombre faces reflecting upon past glories long since faded and the death of millions whose blood was poured down shell-holes till their veins ran dry.

While ever greater emphasis has been placed upon the catastrophic death toll and the brutality of past wars, of most significance was not necessarily the manner in which so many lives were lost; by bullet or incendiary bomb from on high, or by whizzing, pounding shells or the stuttering half-hearted clacker of the machine-gun that ripped flesh from limb and rendered life inanimate – but quite why so many people died on the battlefield, and for what cause.

It was for the most just and noble of reasons that millions gave their lives in the service of their country; in the pursuit of freedom from tyranny. Willingly or unwillingly it matters not, for they are heroes one and all – and their sacrifice will stand as stark testament to future generations of the price men paid for liberty.

With every passing moment the Great War quietly fades out of living memory, leaving ours and future generations, conditioned as we have and will be by the poetry of war, to contemplate the fact that all but a small, select few have never experienced the conflict we seek to honour year by year – that we should be so fortunate.

Yet, while we may not all be soldiers fighting for a distant cause in foreign fields of foreign lands, we are all custodians of the hard-won rights and freedoms of those who came before us, who believed these to be prizes worth fighting and dying for, whatever the cost may be, and for which we owe an unrepayable debt of gratitude.

And, as the Last Post sounds and the twilight shadows lengthen over war memorials across the land, those of us left behind can reflect upon the fact that although twentieth century Europe left us with a legacy of death and destruction whose memory and affects will be long lasting, it was ultimately because the freedoms we cherish were as important then as they are today, and always shall be.

That is why we remember, and that is why we must never forget.

Played with full of courage and determination throughout, England sadly lacked that certain flair to break through a solid South African defence, and were perhaps also unfortunate to have a Mark Cueto try not given.

Statistically speaking, South Africa fully deserved their ultimate victory. They scored more points and more tries than England throughout the tournament, and that difference eventually shone through tonight. However, the England team that South Africa had comprehensively defeated 36-0 only weeks earlier did not give in without an admirable fight, and I think that despite coming so close, England can leave France with heads held higher.

What was quite amazing about England’s world cup journey was the support that slowly grew behind the team as the tournament continued. England’s heroic underdog performances had a strangely uniting effect on the nation and continues to show why Rugby is a far more civilised and enjoyable sport than football. What’s more, High street retailers recorded massive increases in merchandise and replica shirt sales, while the supermarkets sold gallons of alcohol. Huge numbers of fans crossed the channel to support England at the knockout stages and especially the final, and English troops around the world in Afghanistan and Iraq gathered to urge on their men.

Despite disappointment tonight, England under Brian Ashton have really created a fantastic side to build on, and there’s always another chance on the horizon in four years time.