Must try harder

via eddie_campbell:



Apparently this rating is based on the presence, once, of the word "pain".

And I've edited their code to remove the words "Online dating".

Sunday with the British Legion

The oddest, most unexpected day of our holiday was also the day we had constructed the trip around. It's durham_rambler's story, really, but it goes something like this: each year the British Legion (ex-services organisation) in Manor Park, east London, commemorate the anniversary of the Battle of Jutland. Manor Park has a particular connection with the battle, because John Travers Cornwell, VC, is buried in the cemetery there. And this is of particular interest to durham_rambler, because Jack Cornwell was his grandfather's cousin.

So on a blazing hot Sunday, we crossed London and joined a procession the streets of Newham, men, women and children in uniform carrying their heavy banners to the music of a brass band. In this extremely multiracial part of London, almost the only non-white face in the procession was that of the Civic Ambassador (not the mayor, apparently, because mayor is a purely administrative post, but a bureaucratic term for the function I think of as that of the mayor) resplendent in red sari and gold chain of office. Yet the reaction seemed to be friendly, if bemused: a small child stood in an open doorway stamping her feet to the music, people emerged from shops to listen, convoys of youngsters accompanied the procession for a short distance, filming it with their mobile phones.

We made our way to the church, where there was a service which included the dedication of new colours (a new banner) for the local Sea Cadet unit which is named for Jack Cornwell, I usually claim never have been to a church service from which someone did not emerge either married or buried; I suppose I'll have to re-word that. But the theatre of this service - the playing of The Last Post, the lowering of the banners, the silence broken by the familiar words of Binyon's promise:

They shall grow not old, as we that are left grow old:
Age shall not weary them, nor the years contemn.
At the going down of the sun and in the morning
We will remember them.

- was extremely moving.

Then back to the British Legion for lunch, and speeches, and conversation. durham_rambler was welcomed as a member of the family, and had the opportunity to talk to a lady in her nineties whose sister had married Jack Cornwell's brother, and who had childhood memories of the man himself: "I think we are related," was durham_rambler's opening gambit. We spoke to the Civic Ambassador, and to the Deputy Lieutenant of Newham, and realised there was a happy synergy between durham_rambler's pleasure at celebrating part of his family's history, and their pleasure at having found a contact for a valued part of "Newham's heritage". Very gratifying all round.

And we ended the day with a visit to the present-day family, which was good too.