Occasional Scribbles

What better way to raise the collective doom and gloom of the nation than to watch the Trooping of the Colour.  This poignant display of all that is superb about our country, it’s noble traditions of honour and valour, courage and patriotism,  echoing back down the centuries in all the collective glory displayed today, in honour of the Queen’s birthday

Second Lieutenant Henry Finegan won the honour of Ensign and carefully accepted the colour with practiced perfection, watched carefully, via link , by fellow troops serving in Afghanistan. It was heart warming to see the obvious pride these men feel and dedication to their Queen and country and the obvious cheer it brought them to be able to watch the proceedings from afar.

The Queen arrived looking bright as a new pin, in a fetching turquoise outfit with a jaunty matching hat and tapped her feet throughout the parade clearly enjoying herself on this glorious sunny day.

You have to marvel at the fantastic precision of all these troops, bandsmen and cavalry, the timing impeccable, the horse’s patient, despite standing almost still for an hour and half shows a discipline only these dedicated men can achieve.  The rousing sounds of the marching bands, calling each regiment before the Queen, ringing the change to double quick time with each regiments unique piece of music.

The bright buttons, red tunics and black trousers, the shiny medals, breastplates and swords buffed to perfection is a sight to see. Every man’s step choreographed and rehearsed over and over all but the bandsmen’s ‘Spin Wheel’. This fantastic achievement has evolved over time and there is no written drill, anywhere, rather a collective instinct that turns these men back into a perfect rectangle formation.

Looking along the arrow straight lines of the men, a wiggly line of differing tunic lengths, is evidence that all shapes and sizes are there, from the tallest at 7’4” to the smallest at 5’3”, including Bear Skin, though from a distance they all look like toy soldiers.

The magnificent drum horses, Achilles and Spartacus, grand names to match grand animals, looked so splendid with their silver drums as their riders saluted the Queen with drum sticks crossed and when at last the cavalry rode past, there were signs of relief as horses tossed their heads, finally allowed to move.  The weight of the riders’ kit is around 2 stone.  Some seemed frisky though they all have a very special diet designed to slowly release energy for the days event with garlic to keep away the flies and Soya to keep them supple.

As the Queen smilingly gave permission for the parade to leave the ground, hordes of people followed on foot to the Palace to see Her Majesty wave from the balcony and await the 41 gun salute in Green Park and the R.A.F. fly past marking the end of the birthday salute.

I spied Gordon Brown amongst the dignitaries and wondered if that cold heart was in any way moved by this spectacular display of loyalty, integrity and patriotism.  It certainly should be.