Sunday 9th November 2025

The alarm went off at five.

I lay for five minutes before getting up.

It was Armistice Day, and I was going to London to be one of the 10,000 or so former members of HM Armed Forces, Civil Servants and others who would take part in observing the two minute silence at eleven, then march past the Cenotaph.

Jools was away at Battle, sleeping soundly, or so I thought.

So I went down the test, jab and feed Scully then feed the other three cats, before boiling the kettle to make a coffee.

At half five, I sat at the table and there was a knock at the back door.

Odd.

Turns out Jools could not sleep, so left the hotel early and was now home, so the plans on how to get me to and back from Ebbsfleet was moot.

I let Jools in, she made a coffee and we caught up on the highlights, before it was time for me to get dressed in my new shirt, trousers, before remembering how to tie a tie.

Socks on, shoes on, put on my rain jacket before grabbing my filled hipflask.

I drove us to Ebbsfleet, leaving in the pre-dawn light, so as we headed north the sunrise got nearer.

Traffic was at least light, with mist hanging over the Medway as we cross over it on the motorway.

I drove us to the station. We kiss as Jools drove off and I walked to the station to find where the first train of the day was leaving from.

Us veterans had free travel to and from London for the parade, so an Army Officer semi-ordered me not to buy a ticket, instead once the roller blinds lifter for access to the platform, we walked up the steps and into the golden glory as the sun cleared the low valley sides, bathing us in warm golden light.

The trees on the valley sides were golden, and barely a breath of wind caused the leaves to flutter. It was going to be a mild and memorable day.

Its only 15 minutes into St Pancras, so barely time to get comfortable.

Once at St Pancras, all barriers were open, so I walked through and went to the undercroft to the Piccadilly Line entrance, which seemed to take forever, and possibly half the way there already by the time I reached the actual station.

Halfway on the journey, a guy got on with the same tie I was searing, one showing the symbol for explosives which is what we use for our trade merchandise, like the tie.

I went to say hello, and turns out he had not been to London in nearly 30 years, and didn't really know where to go.

I would guide him.

We got off at Piccadilly Circus, then along to the Barkerloo line, another walk as long as if we would have went up to ground level and walked along Haymarket.

One stop along to Charing Cross, so up the steps to the street before crossing over the southern side of Trafalgar Square, and begin the first lot of "military waiting" to get through the shrouded arches of Admiralty Arch.

We shuffled along onto the top end of The Mall, then into a tent to show our invites and ID.

And we were in.

My RAFA branch, RAF Armourers, was D38, and literally the first group we came to on the crowded Horseguards Parade.

Old friends were met with handshakes and hugs, new friendships were forged.

And so began the second lot of military waiting, it was half eight, we had two hours to go.

A constant flow of people, most with regimental berets of all hues, most with badges, some with plumes and others with oak leaves or lots of oak leaves.

It was a wonderful sight.

The Horseguards rode by hauling the gun that would be fired to mark the start of the two minutes silence. Some looked so young, barely out of school.

Their bright uniforms showed well under the golden canopies of the London Plan Trees that stood our so well against the deep blue sky.

From ten, the columns began to march off. Use being D38 meant we would be one of the last. But there was waiting here or in Whitehall.

Finally our time came, and we shuffled off on the gravel, wheeling round to the right, then sharp left so we could pass six abreast through the central arch of Horseguards itself, and out onto Whitehall, where we were greeted, as all were, by applause from those gathered to witness the even from behind barriers.

We had twenty minutes to wait. Photos were taken, nips from hipflasks were sipped.

And at eleven, the bells of the Palace of Westminster sounded the hour.

On the first strike by Big Ben, the cannon fired to make the start of the two minutes silence, and London fell silent.

I mean really silent.

For two minutes we stood. And remembered.

The cannon sounded a second time, and the King laid the wreath at the foot of the Cenotaph for the Nation.

Minor Royals followed, leaders of the main political parties, representatives from the wartime allies followed.

We stood and waited.

After the benediction by the Bishop of London, the march off started, beginning with those on the right side of Whitehall.

We applauded each group as they passed, doubling that for the Chelsea Pensioners and the Ghurkhas.

Thing is, the muscles used for walking at different, or used in a different way for standing. Long gone are the days when we used to stand on the parade square or stand on terraces to watch a football match.

I am sure I could not have done this two months ago. Indeed at the National Arboretum I took to sitting every five minutes out of thirty, and ached as I walked back to the car afterwards.

Anyway, the keep fit thing has many benefits, the latest is standing/marching for nearly five hours.

My legs did ache before and after. But I did it.

Sometime before half twelve, we marched off. Impossible to keep time in the deep canyon of the Government and military buildings along Whitehall, but near the Cenotaph, the bands of the Guards, and the bass drum beating, we could keep good time. If only for a while.

By then the Royal Party were long gone, but we did an "eyes left" as we marched past, then on to the end of Whitehall, our steps falling out of time as we left the band behind.

Along King George Street, where more people stood and applauded as we marched past. Turn up Horse Guards Road to where the representative of the Princess Royal saluted us as we marched back before wheeling around Horseguards Parade before stopping and being able to fall out.

We made our way out through Horseguards again, turned left up Whitehall before turning into the Horse and Guardsman pub where we were to meet for drinks.

We were supposed to have reserved the back bar, but it was already packed, and very humid.

I got to the small par, ordered two beers and stood to one side to take it all in.

On Trafalgar Square, I tried to flag a taxi down, but with no luck. So, I thought maybe there might be a train for Dover soon to depart.

So I walked up Charing Cross road, and found I have a 25 minute wait, time in which I bought the last Cornish pasty in the shop, ate that, then walked to platform 5 as the train came in.

A ten minute wait, then the train glided out over the Thames, screeching its way first to Waterloo East then along to London Bridge, all on elevated brick arches so we could looking into rooms our down onto the street and Borough Market.

From there is was "fast" to Sevenoaks, rattling through the suburbs and into Kent, passing under the North Down through two long tunnels.

It took an extra 50 minutes this way, over the high speed line, but got me back in Dover before four, where Jools was waiting to take me home.

We were both very tired.

I watched the Citeh v Liverpool game, we ate party food for supper as the game played out. Citeh 3-0 winners, and well worth their three goals.

We went to bed at half seven, and asleep by eight.

Phew.