Wooton Bassett.

Sometimes you watch something on the television that turns you into a pathetic blubbering wreak. A shadow of your former self without any warning and it always occurs on the day you are out of tissues!

Last night was an example of that, the story on Wootton Basset, the small Wilshire Market Town that became the centre of national mourning at the loss of the UK's young service men and women in Iraq and Afghanistan.

Wooton Bassett is located close to RAF Lyneham, where the soldiers were repatriated. On the journey to the motorway and their hometowns, they were driven though the town centre. The story followed members of the Royal British Legion who decided to organise a small gathering of local people who wanted to pay their respects, which then turned to thousands and became the focus of a nation.

One story particularly got to me, it wasn't the families, their grief was obvious. It was the story of the quiet remembrance of an old solider who collected up the cards left by the families and created a book of remembrance. He cried as he showed it, telling stories of children who would grow up without their fathers. He explained "I didn't want them damaged, blown away or wet by the rain, so I put them in here." The front on the book read "WE WILL REMEMBER THEM" and I cried like a baby.

Apparently the town in now "Royal Wooton Bassett" an honour given by the Queen as thanks for the support the local people gave to the families of those fallen soldiers. In the words of Barack Obama "We want to honour our fallen warriors with the respect and gratitude they deserve, whether it be here or in the small town of Wootton Bassett. Where people line the streets in a solemn tribute that represents the best of British character."

I may have cried buckets, but for once I was proud to be British.