It was 20 years ago today...

... that the Berlin Wall fell - the edifice which symbolised the Cold War and which had been erected in the summer of 1961, finally crumbled after 28 years, signalling the end of 44 years of Communist tyranny in Central and Eastern Europe.

Along with millions of viewers worldwide, I watched the TV news live - scarcely able to breathe or believe what was happening - showing events as they unfolded. As East Berliners climbed the Wall and started to rip chunks off it, I wondered how long it would be before the forces were sent in to quell the insurrection as they had done in Warsaw and Budapest in 1956 and Prague in 1968. But, it didn't happen. They were unchecked. This signalled the end of a thoroughly nasty chapter in Europe's history.

For me, the events had a bitter sweet irony. For years, as a child of Polish immigrants, I along with many others had long dreamt of this day and now it was here. Unfortunately, my father wasn't present to witness these events - he died a few weeks earlier - his own life had been changed out of all recognition by two World Wars. He was 7 when the first World War started and 11 when it ended, his education disrupted by the conflict. He was 32 when the second World War started, throwing a permanent spanner in the works for his life as an adult.

We were witnessing a peaceful revolution. The Nazis had controlled Central and Eastern Europe for nearly 6 years, the Communists for the next 44 years. Half a century of occupation. Two generations. Millions of people brought up in a totalitarian regime, ruled from the Centre (Moscow) with an iron fist by geriatric apparatchiks. A regime where there was only one party's name on the ballot paper. A regime where citizens of whichever People's Republic were encouraged to spy on and report on activities of their friends, neighbours, even loved ones, that could be considered to be against the interests of the State. A regime where, despite plentiful minerals, such as coal and iron, there was no food in the shops and people would queue for hours because they had heard a rumour there might be bananas for sale.

I cried and cried that night. In disbelief that this was actually happening. In sadness that my father was not here to witness this revolution. In joy, that, at long last, a new chapter of European history would commence, bringing a close to half a century of occupation and tyranny. I saluted the people who had died in that time, fighting against their oppressors.

Within weeks, politicians such as Thatcher were mouthing inane statements about how we should be careful, that the pace of this revolution needed to be moderated. Try telling that to nations under occupation for half a century, being given the whiff of freedom! Now, twenty years down the line, those countries are all part of a united Europe, an Economic Community, one where there has not been a war for half a century, sparing me and millions of others from the suffering my parents had had to endure.

Tonight, I raise a glass and salute all those who fell against their oppressors, those who lost their lives in pursuit of freedom and those whose lives were changed forever because they dared speak against the authorities. Alexander Dubcek, Vaclav Havel and Lech Walesa are names that people of my generation interested in European history will, no doubt, recognise. There were many others who were part of this process. This anniversary is of great significance to many people with the same ethnic roots as myself - Britain has not been occupied by a foreign power for nearly a millennium, so forgive my indulgence, it's rather special for me. It is an anniversary of the triumph of good against evil, of free speech against state control.

To freedom and peace.