IF I could travel in time there are many places and events I would love to eavesdrop on and my journey would begin in Ypres/Passchendaele 100 years ago where I would seek out my great-grandfather’s trench, tap him on the shoulder and tell him: "Time to get your gas mask on a bit quicker than you actually did." He survived the war and I am told he was twice wounded in mustard gas attacks which hastened his early death. So thank you to Peter Martine (Letters, November 6) for reminding me of Wilfred Owen’s poem Dulce et Decorum est.

I do not know whether my great-grandfather wore a poppy on these occasions afterward or whether he viewed such symbols as representative of nationalistic violence and a social and political system which would later starve him and his family into submission in 1926.

I also struggled with the concept of these ceremonies for many years and my Irish friends pour scorn on what they view as a symbol of British imperialist violence. I do believe the poppy to have once been a symbol for the remembrance of suffering and have heard mention of a “white poppy” peace movement in the 1920s but have no evidence of this.

Obviously the poppy since its inception has metamorphosed into a patriotic ideal with TV personalities wearing it de rigour as an essential part of their November outfits.

Notwithstanding, I do feel it is important not to lose the emotional connection with previous generations and the horrors they witnessed, so for my great-grandfather I wear a poppy on Armistice Day and on Armistice Day only.

George Hunter,

Stanmore Road, Glasgow.