Littlehampton always plays Armed Forces Day for all it is worth, and rightly so. Remembering the sacrifice of the fallen and the dangers faced by those who currently serve is as important as the tradition of the celebration itself.
This year we had a great day for it. A flying display, marching bands, a pipe band, re-enactments, armoured vehicles – even a tank.
Plenty of stalls representing all of the services, even bought myself a super vintage US Marine hat, one for the collection.
A boiling entertaining day – a bar selling cold Sussex ale would have gone down very well!
Highlight of the day for me, the Edwin James Festival Choir singing We’ll Meet Again and The White Cliffs of Dover touching counterpoints to the battle-dressed field.
Went to my secret place and watched a mother fox and four cubs playing on the green grass.
Watching them I wondered why people had such a down on them, killers all. And that really is not true.
A friend of mine in Manchester kept three chickens, had them for a considerable time and always, without fail, locked them up at dusk.
One evening she was very late home and found two dead hens and one on the missing list.
The air was strong with the scent of Reynard and there was little doubt in her mind as to the culprit of the slaughter.
Being a bright lady, she blamed herself and not the animal for doing what it did for its own family.
She left the dead which, of course, the fox had not killed out of meanness but had cached them for another time, it’s what foxes do.
She bought three more chickens promising herself and them that they would not be forgotten again. A wise, caring lady who knows we all have our place in this cranky world.
Walking out one lovely sunny evening last week – weren’t they all? – heading for a musical evening with friends on the Beaumont Estate.
I greeted two fellow walkers and one gardener with a cheery ‘good evening’, I hasten to add I was not dressed outrageously and I brightened my smile as I spoke.
Two ignored me completely and the third nodded briefly and looked awkwardly at me as if to wish I had not addressed him.
What is the world coming to, or has it already become?
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