Remembrance And Sunday

It is probably not fashionable or even politically correct and I’m probably giving too much about me away, but I sat and watched the march past at the Cenotaph on TV with moist eyes and a huge fucking lump in my throat.
The Ghurkhas and the Free Poles got me, as they always do, but for the first time the ‘Shot At Dawn’ people were allowed to march.
I lost it then.
It was unusual to see young marching with old but once you saw them in their batches, all with the same colour beret or same cap badge, it made sense.
The old man leading the Canadians was tops!
A chest FULL of medals, a black umbrella tucked under his arm and the crispest march and salute you’ve ever seen.
Service people of the Commonwealth… I will remember.

Lunch today went extremely well.
The slow cooked lamb fell off the bones and tasted of lime and coriander, as hoped.
(And, Yes, for those of you who were wondering, Crisp-e did gnaw the bones! Bless our house-trained savage!)
I have to admit to going out and buying a small rolled shoulder to roast because I had the, “Oh Fuck! There’s not enough” panic.
There was enough and it was yummers!
Claire chipped in with some splendid Sancerre. Chablis was drunk.
Sassy provided an epic, homemade, Banana and Raspberry Trifle.
We all know how Crisp-e feels about Bananas.
Bananas = Slime.
However, this beautiful Trifle he declared both, ‘Slimy AND Gritty’!
It was a great afternoon; we were only missing Schnee and Kev, Mad Matt and Looby Lou for a full Family dinner.