Answers about Writing and Composition

There is more passion, more vitality, edmark reading program online in someone like Joy Trew, 98, a great-grandmother from Bristol who served as a corporal in the Women's Auxiliary Air Force, than in your average 18-year-old, sitting in their bedroom watching TikToks or feeling triggered because someone's misgendered their cat. There is no ‘shoulders back, heads up' nowadays. No ‘keep calm and carry on'. Just ‘me, me, me' - as exemplified by research conducted earlier this year by The Times, in which just 11 per cent of Gen Z (young adults aged 18-27) said they would be willing to fight for their country.

It's not just that the few remaining veterans of the Second World War are very much in the twilight of their years, or that the woman who led that generation through their darkest hours with her parents - Queen Elizabeth II - is gone. Watching the Red Arrows, seeing the faces of the crowd, listening to the stories of the veterans, I felt a sense of wistful longing for a nation, a people, a spirit and, above all, a clarity of purpose that I fear no longer exists. And may never exist again.

And just as a reminder of the absolute agony he's suffering, his tin-eared idiot of a wife posted a picture of him and their two children with their backs to the camera, enjoying their not-so-hard-earned ‘freedom' in an idyllic garden. And don't get me wrong, it was wonderful to see so many people thronging the Mall, and all those street parties (in defiance of the gloomy weather). But for me, at any rate, the official celebrations were just tinged with… well, an inescapable sense of melancholy.

But for all the jollity, all the smiles and uplifting stories, I could not escape a nagging sense of sadness. A bitter feeling that it was all just a veneer, a performance rather than a true expression of solidarity. They have little or no sense of national identity, ‘nation' being a dirty word. They are far more interested in identity politics, such as trans issues and questions of race and so-called white privilege. The only thing they really seem to care about is how they come across on social media - a kind of ‘does my virtue look big in this?' mentality.

How many of them will play their part in ridding the world of a true evil? How many will stand up for what's good and right, regardless of their own sacrifice? How many will still rise to their feet, two years shy of their 100th birthdays, to salute the marching band? How they ever managed to go on to live anything even resembling a normal existence is a mystery to me. But somehow, they did. They knew the value of life, you see, understood how precious and precarious it is.

They had survived: they owed it to those who did not to keep going. Prince Harry is a classic case in point. He's older, of course, but his man-child mentality puts him firmly in this bracket.