A good turnout from the public this year. A few familiar old faces missing, inevitably, and one of the old boys stayed sat in a chair until it was time to get up and do his speech, and sat down again afterwards. I'll swear that particular old man gets smaller and shorter every year, and his voice is thinning out too. But I bet no-one dares suggest he lets someone else do his bit.
The old fellow who always turned up with the electric wheelchair and a dog sat between his feet was missing too. He never was part of the parade, he'd just turn up a few minutes before the silence, wearing his medals, and then whirr off again. I guess he was one of those who couldn't let it pass unmarked, but didn't want to be part of the pomp.
I noticed a few other familiar old faces sat around the periphery rather than joining in as such, such as the fierce looking old man with a chestful of medals, a blue beret, and a long grey ponytail. I'd love to know his story, but it isn't the right time to intrude.
The old Gurkhas and Indian soldiers were, as always, bursting with pride.
Some of the little Boy Scouts must have been freezing in their shirtsleeves but they weren't letting on.
There were noticeably more girls in the Army Cadet contingent, including one resolute and sturdy lass walking with two elbow crutches. Swinging herself along with great determination.
I didn't see anyone collapse this year, perhaps the cold weather helped.
Bless 'em all.
Gyppo
