Log in

No account? Create an account

November 16th, 2008

I put on my service dress this morning, took my older daughter in tow, and went up to London for the Association of Jewish Ex-Servicemen's remembrance parade. 

It was warm and damp in Surrey, but only a few miles away in central London it was cold and wet.  Standing at attention in front of the Cenotaph I was shivering and losing feeling in my toes.  The shoes, brown, ugly are, surprisingly, not ideally suited to standing stock-still in the middle of Whitehall while the Central Band of the Royal Air Force plays Adon Olam.  

The moment that really made the parade worthwhile (apart from marching past my workplace wearing an Andrews Sisters uniform and Golda Meir shoes) was being approached by a Second World War veteran from my corps who very effusively expressed his appreciation at seeing a serving Jewish officer from the Corps on parade.  He soldiered to Hell and back for years of the Second World War when he was barely out of school, and he's teary with appreciation at seeing me swinging my arms breast-pocket high. 

So I think I can do it again next year.