Lost Reflections

It used to be that we could mark Remembrance Day at the Submarine Museum in the simplest of ways; we would fall in, the 'Still' would be piped, there would be the 2-minute silence, the 'Carry On', fall out and then a tot. It was simple, pure, and our thoughts were our own. And all the time the main parade was taking place elsewhere in the town.

And then someone decided it would be a good idea to invite a padre with all the associated palaver - hymns, prayers, his bad jokes, and a reference to his limited time on boats, The purity, and the time for reflection had gone, replaced by the discipline and routine of religion.

What it would be to have the chance to be able to observe those few minutes of reflection in a personal way without having to read an A5 pamphlet to remind one of what follows after the Submariner's Prayer. I doubt that opportunity will ever arise again.

Added later:

And then in 2019, the last time we got together, the 1100 bugle sounded, whilst the padre was talking. He stopped but only long enough to allow the tubes to die away. He was determined to finish his sermon.

Guilt Trip

We were up in London a couple of days ago, having a fun day and splashing a little money around (a rare treat). We'd had a nice lunch in a patisserie, bought some Chanel perfume, had a good mooch round and then went to Wardour Street for a pleasant dinner.

And then we headed for home.

As we walked through Picadilly Circus Underground, there was a guy with a blanket, reading the Metro, and a cardboard sign that said 'Ex British Army, Homeless'. I was all set to walk past him until I saw his sign, so I stopped to talk. He'd done 7 years and was late of the Royal Green Jackets. He'd been to Northern Ireland and Kosovo, and that wasn't what he joined up for, he said; I'm sure those who have done those tours will empathise. He got out but things just 'didn't go right'. I didn't press him. In September he will get a place to stay through the charity Homes 4 Heroes, and he wears one of their hoodies.

I asked him if he had anywhere to stay and he replied that he was hoping to get the £18 he needed for the night shelter. When asked if a tenner would help him, he looked at the change in his pocket and replied that would probably just about get him there.In the end, we made sure he had a bed for the night and left him.

What has gnawed at me ever since is the fact that we had blown some money on nothing really, and that we didn't think twice about making sure he had a bed. And yet, this guy was having to spend his day begging for that small sum which, I suppose, doesn't come easily.  It's the inequity that upsets me.

http://www.ukh4h.org.uk/