On this day of remembrance we put aside politics. We remember all those from Sleaford, North Hykeham and the many villages across our constituency, and all those from across the country, who answered the call of their country: who served, who fought and who died, so that we may live.
God Save the KingIn Flanders fields the poppies blow
Between the crosses, row on row,
That mark our place; and in the sky
The larks, still bravely singing, fly
Scarce heard amid the guns below.
We are the Dead. Short days ago
We lived, felt dawn, saw sunset glow,
Loved and were loved, and now we lie,
In Flanders fields.
Take up our quarrel with the foe:
To you from failing hands we throw
The torch; be yours to hold it high.
If ye break faith with us who die
We shall not sleep, though poppies grow
In Flanders fields.
With proud thanksgiving, a mother for her children,
England mourns for her dead across the sea.
Flesh of her flesh they were, spirit of her spirit,
Fallen in the cause of the free.
Solemn the drums thrill: Death august and royal
Sings sorrow up into immortal spheres.
There is music in the midst of desolation
And a glory that shines upon our tears.
They went with songs to the battle, they were young,
Straight of limb, true of eye, steady and aglow.
They were staunch to the end against odds uncounted,
They fell with their faces to the foe.
They shall grow not old, as we that are left grow old:
Age shall not weary them, nor the years condemn.
At the going down of the sun and in the morning
We will remember them.
They mingle not with their laughing comrades again;
They sit no more at familiar tables of home;
They have no lot in our labour of the day-time;
They sleep beyond England’s foam.
But where our desires are and our hopes profound,
Felt as a well-spring that is hidden from sight,
To the innermost heart of their own land they are known
As the stars are known to the Night;
As the stars that shall be bright when we are dust,
Moving in marches upon the heavenly plain;
As the stars that are starry in the time of our darkness,
To the end, to the end, they remain.
If I should die, think only this of me:
That there’s some corner of a foreign field
That is for ever England. There shall be
In that rich earth a richer dust concealed;
A dust whom England bore, shaped, made aware,
Gave, once, her flowers to love, her ways to roam;
A body of England’s, breathing English air,
Washed by the rivers, blest by suns of home.
And think, this heart, all evil shed away,
A pulse in the eternal mind, no less
Gives somewhere back the thoughts by England given;
Her sights and sounds; dreams happy as her day;
And laughter, learnt of friends; and gentleness,
In hearts at peace, under an English heaven.
FAMILY. COMMUNITY. COUNTRY.
Today we pause to remember the sacrifice of Jesus Christ on the cross. We wish you and your family a peaceful and reflective Good Friday, and a joyful Easter, from all the team at Reform UK Sleaford & North Hykeham.

Remember, remember!
The fifth of November,
The Gunpowder treason and plot;
I know of no reason
Why the Gunpowder treason
Should ever be forgot!
Happy Guy Fawkes night from all the team at Reform UK Sleaford & North Hykeham

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{{r.foot}}One manifesto for the whole of North Kesteven, shaped by our candidates and members from every corner of the district. Watch this space.
{{solar.names}} We track every acre of North Kesteven farmland under application, approved and built — straight from the published planning documents.
Nobody here does it alone. Our branch is a team of local people — the committee that runs it, the volunteers on the doorsteps, the candidates who put their names forward and the councillors already serving you.
The latest from our branch, councillors and candidates across Sleaford, North Hykeham and the villages of North Kesteven.
Deliver leaflets on your own street, knock doors with the team, put up a poster or help on polling day. Tell us what you can do and your local organiser will be in touch.