Lest we forget

Since becoming a fully fledged grown up, Remembrance Sunday has always made me a little bit emotional. Maybe it’s since having my own children or just an age thing where you become more aware of loss and sacrifice. So when A came home from Brownies with the news that she would be laying the wreath on Sunday I felt very proud. I know it’s just because she’s one of the eldest there now and they always get the older girls to carry the flag or lay the wreath but I hope it’s something she will remember when she’s older.

We met the rest of the group at the meeting point ready for the procession up our village high street to the war memorial. I’ve been to the service several times over the years but this one was extra special. I love that a small village like ours marks the occasion with a proper ceremony. The high street comes to a standstill and quite a few locals come out to watch.

Once the procession reached the memorial the local church ministers (we have 3 churches) performed the ceremony between them. The roll call was read of all the men from the village who died in both world wars – a surprising number. This brought a lump to my throat. After the two minute silence a local lad from the scouting group performed the Sounding of the Last Post. And he did it brilliantly. By this point I was nearly blubbing and shed a small tear.

All of the local groups then laid their wreaths and A went up with her 2 helpers (not sure of the correct word) and laid hers. They stepped back and did the little brownie salute. A very special moment.

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She takes all of these things completely in her stride and doesn’t seem to get nervous. Very proud.

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