Today I wear a special watch. It's modern, a Seiko, with a striking blue face and steel band. But like my most precious of possessions, this watch comes with a story, of whom it belonged to and how I came to have it. I never even met the original owner; it belonged to a certain "Cousin Andy". Not my blood cousin obviously, but perhaps one of spirit even if I am sure we would have differed on some matters. He was a military man, RAF paratrooper, and was involved in pretty much every conflict that that body was involved in for over twenty years. I have sympathy for the warrior spirit and take the anti-pacifist message about those who sleep safely in their beds because "others are committing violence on their behalf". The problem being a military person in a democratic-imperialist power is sometimes your violence has a humanitarian intent, and at other times it is entirely for the capitalist paymasters, and often a bit of both. I would certainly put his experiences in the Balkans in the former category. I have some idea of how those horrors of Bosnia and Macedonia haunted him, and even from a safe distance and many years I still find myself grieving for the scores of thousands of those who were killed, wounded, raped, and suffered in what history calls "the Yugoslav Wars".

Cousin Andy was deeply aware of how easily soldiers could be discarded. He would post about how soldiers are sent to wars based on lies, and when they return they are left jobless, homeless, and suffering from mental disorders. This is a very familiar story whilst invasive wars exist. He became quite a public advocate about his own PTSD, generating a least a bit of media coverage of his own experiences as he became involved in a supportive charity. He knew exactly what the memory losses, nightmares, insomnia, the depression, the anxiety attacks meant, but was still able to write cogently: "PTSD isn't about what's wrong with you, it's about what happened to you". Unfortunately four years ago he died, on this very day. It is in his memory today I wear a special watch. I never inquired how he died, but I fear the worst as he would have been only a couple of years older than myself, and from what I have seen he was at least as fit if not more so.

It is close to two years ago I was given this watch. It was after I proposed to my erstwhile partner at the blood donor's centre, for we wanted to save lives together. I gave her a late 1960s Longines Automatic, still with its shop display box after half a century; elegant, classical, old European, and a little bit fragile and needing some care (all rather like its provider). Later, she gave me Cousin Andy's watch; modern, masculine, steely, waterproof, and with military precision. We exchanged these gifts on the basis that every second we would have together would be precious, and that we would make up for lost time. I once told my awry co-pilot that if my home was on fire, after rescuing the cat, if I could save just one item it would be this watch. These days I now wonder if I should return it; after all, such is the tradition and etiquette of broken engagement gifts. But perhaps just like people and things, maybe sincere commitments can be repaired as well. Or perhaps I'm just an evergreen hopeful romantic; only time will tell. Either way, today I wear a special watch; not for the woman I have loved, but for a man I never knew.

President Kennedy once said: "We are the watchmen on the walls of world freedom". This time is your watch as we stand together mere minutes to midnight. There are those, and there will be many more, who are suffering, who are dying, because of the mad dreams of the powerful and the willful ignorance of the indifferent masses. So, I ask: what are you doing with your time? Today I wear a special watch.