Aye Up,
Booted, suited and beret-ed, another annual attendance at a local parade with my offspring (mil/ex mil).
Relatives and friends to remember from past conflicts.
Turned up at a different town in the locality this year to be unexpectedly approached by a female vet who asked us (told us! lol) to fall in with the real old soldiers from my fathers generation. (there were only about half a dozen of them at the head of a large parade). Who could have refused.
The pride that they marched with made my eyes water. What a privilege to have been amongst them.
What I did notice was that there were also a fair number of vets amongst the crowd lining the streets, many wearing their former mil head dress and medals, I'm sure that had there been the opportunity to have asked them they would have joined us too.
Next week I will be visiting the grave of a local lad who went to school with one of my lads and who was killed in Afghan, it's on a cross country route that I do frequently and I often spend a moment as I pass.
I recently added a section to one of my other routes and discovered an impromptu memorial (poppies and flowers) at a remote spot but last years writing on the poppy crosses had become unreadable. I will visit again and perhaps discover more info.
And I take my hat (beret) off to all those youngsters (and adult leaders) in the brownies/cubs/scouts/guides/beavers/boys brigade/cadets and others who had kitted up and turned out, and especially to those who had played in bands and bugled the last post/reveille.
It was a bit nippy and they made a great effort.
If that last paragraph applies to any of you reading - good on yer. well done. And thanks.