It was 3:40am; my alarm was playing a military trumpet ringtone I downloaded specially for today. I jumped out of bed resetting the alarm and quickly raced down to my parents' room maxing the volume whilst placing my phone next to dads head. Within fifteen seconds it goes off and one very startled dad and a not so happy mum wake from their previously silent slumber.

"It's Anzac Day" I screech with the same enthusiasm that might be appropriate for a five year old on Christmas morning but certainly over the top for a solemn day like today. I snatch my phone and turn off the alarm as dads alarm goes off with a slow low buzz then heightens in volume and pitch with each and every buzz.

"I thought I would wake you this year as a thank you for all the times you have made sure I didn't miss the service" I say giving my best puppy dog eyes. No more is said on the wake up prank.

Mum whips up porridge whilst I set the table; filling the kettle and switching it on in the process.

Dad goes out to get the paper that won't be delivered for a few more hours yet. He comes back in saying nothing hoping to hide his error in judgement.

I start some scrambled eggs and pop four slices of bread into the toaster whilst devouring my porridge.

Dad makes tea for everyone whilst mum rinses off the porridge plates.

A second round of toast is inserted and pops just as the eggs are ready to be portioned. Breakfast is over with plates rinsed and it's just gone 4:00am and ten minutes later where backing out the drive for the dawn service.

This year we are going the service at Miranda Cove.

We park at the RSL and then head off about 200 metres in the direction of the cove and the ultimate destination the war memorial in the park about 100 metres from the shoreline.

A parade of soldiers and families soon start on the journey to the war memorial lit only by street lights and the odd battery candle which appeared to be coming more popular each year.

When the parade of current and ex-servicemen, police, scouts, guides and other groups had passed we followed; soon arriving at the memorial. A few chairs had been provided for those that were now incapable of standing for the short service.

The speaker thanked everyone and pointed out to any newbies the significance of the effect of the first light we were about to experience and the the tricks it played on your eyes and accordingly many battles in war were waged during the first light. The Anzacs storming Gallipoli was no exception.

A prayer was followed by a hymn and then the Ode of Remembrance.

Every year I'm chilled by the significance of this passage and my heart catches in my throat as the words "They shall grow not old, as we that are left grow old; Age shall not weary them" are morbidly said and tears start to flow down my eyes at the truth of the reading and I try and focus on the balance of the passage. "nor the years condemn. At the going down of the sun and in the morning; We will remember them."

"Lest we forget"

Everybody at hand mirrored those poi ant words and repeated "Lest we Forget".

A lone bugler started playing The Last Post and I hope he is able to faultlessly play the tune he has no doubt practised for very long time for this moment. I always wonder why we still use such a difficult instrument. It was obviously used in wartime for the level of noise that this easy to carry small instrument can make.

Surely a trumpet would be easier to play at ceremonies. I was obviously missing the significance of the history of the bugle. I breathed a sigh of relief as he successfully concluded his piece. Silence fell for the obligatory one minute as I remembered my dad's grandfather and generally gave thanks and thoughts to those that did not grow old; before the bugler ended my thoughts with the playing of Reveille as the sun pocked its head over the horizon.

A wreath was laid and gunshots fired before we sauntered back to the RSL for another breakfast.

We watched as the early risers now bolstered in numbers again assembled for a larger march to be followed by a more public Anzac Day ceremony for those who couldn't make the sacrifice for the pre-dawn ceremony. We watched the parade but headed home to watch the football on the TV for the two types of matches on offer; Rugby League and Aussie Rules.

Everyone from the sleepover was invited to the barbeque and Mrs Johnson wouldn't allow Winter's dad to pick her up until all the Satan's activities were concluded. There was no way Winter would be given any chance to experience or participate in the memoriam.

The door bell sounded and I went to the door. I saw Jasmin as I opened the door and then Donna to her left. What surprised me was Donna lifted her right arm up to reveal Jasmine's left hand in hers. I giggled, hugged them both and said come in.

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It's Scott again. The Anzac ceremony described above is pretty much what occurs on Anzac Day. The Ode of Rememberence is used on this day and is taken from the poem "For the Fallen" by Laurence Banyon first published in the British newspaper "The Times" in September 2014.

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