Sunday 8th November 2026

There are several London termini you can travel to on a direct train from Dover.

St Pancras is one, but as that station is on the Euston Road, travelling on to central or west London can mean a longer travel time that getting a direct train to say: Victoria, London Bridge, Blackfriars or Cannon Street.

So, in a change from last year where Jools had to drop me off at Ebbsfleet, then catch a train to St Pancras, get on the Underground and change twice, this year she dropped me off at Ashford, and then have a direct run into Charing Cross.

This meant being up even earlier, having coffee and breakfast before leaving home at quarter to six. Reaching Ashford at twenty past six, I had time to find the facilities before the train came in, ready to leave dead on time at 06:32.

It was still dark, of course, but there was light in the east, and in half an hour was light enough to see the countryside passing by.

By the time we got to Tonbridge and Sevenoaks, the train was three quarters full, some were parkrunners, some families, but many dressing in blazers, shirts with medals.

The London suburbs flashed by, until the various lines merged at New Cross for the run past The New Den into London Bridge, then along the rooftops on brick arches to Waterloo East and finally over the river to Charing Cross.

A small gate was open for those of us who were attending remembrance services, including the "big one" in Whitehall, so we passed through, turned left along The Strand, across the bottom corner of Trafalgar Square and through the portals of Admiralty Arch.

One homeless man shouted at us to be shameful to attend and/or have served. But we served so such freedom of speech is allowed. He was soon lost on the hum of dozens of conversations as we waited for the gates to open at half eight.

As it was, they opened early. So, showing our official ticket and Veteran's ID, we were allowed in, and received a personal greeting for the lady with the scanner.

On the far said of Horseguard's Parade were three greasy spoons, so I went straight over to get a brew and a sausage and bacon roll, to see me right for the morning.

And once eaten, to the mustering point for our group, and wait for the others to arrive. Whilst all around us, battalions, squadrons, and various affiliated groups gathered too.

What is seen on TV is fine, but for us attending, it is waiting at one point or another for hours on end.

We were to form up ready to march off at twenty to ten. Which I think we were ready for, then march up the column, wheel left and then right before squeezing through the triple arched entrance onto Whitehall, before turning right until we reached the unit in front, so we stop.

We had an hour to wait.

As we marched on, as all groups who marched on, the crowds on either side applauded, and we smiled back, proudly.

As we waited, all the other columns and groups marched onto Whitehall, forming up into three very long columns, then stopping and waiting.

We were stopped beside a huge video screen on the back of a truck, so could see the coverage, though it was about two minutes behind what we could hear with our ears.

As eleven approached, clergy, politicians and the Royal Family emerged and formed up around the Cenotaph itself. Then, at eleven, Big Ben chimed the first stroke of eleven, and in Horseguard's, a field gun fired.

Silence fell on us all, and all of the city. Little was heard until two minutes later the field gun fired again.

We had been standing and waiting for two and a half hours already, and legs and muscles were getting tired and sore.

On the screen we saw the King lay his wreath, then the other royals, before the other dignitaries and politicians laid theirs.

Another half hour, maybe forty minutes passed, and we just waited to march off. But we waited on.

Four final wreaths were laid, and then the front marched off, with each group following a few septs behind.

The Band of the Guards played, the beat of the bass drum making a left step, so whilst in earshot, we were, mostly, in step, but after passing the Cenotaph, after giving an eyes right, and we carried on and turned down King George Street, the buildings made the sounds of the drum echo, and our step became an applause, though people on the side of the street clapped and cheered.

Onto Horse Guards Road, where Prince Edward took our salute and saluted back, before we wheeled back onto the parade square, halting near the entrance to Whitehall.

In theory, we had to wait until the final group had taken the salute, but there was one poor guardsman ensuring that we didn't leave early.

At ten past midday, the first of us made a break for it, and the poor guy could only watch as we made for the light at the end of the arched entrance onto Whitehall. A sharp left took us towards Trafalgar Square, but on the left was our destination: The Horse and Guardsman, where we had the back room booked, and for once there was no queue, and tables free. Though not for long.

I bought beers for a friend and I, then we could relax and watch the end of the march past.

Where we were last year, still hadn't marched off as we walked the other side of the barrier to the pub, they half mocked, half cheered us.

We said we'd get a beer in for them.

Inside the pub was busy, but we found corners and tables to relax at, as more and more folks came in once their parade was over.

After three beers, my parade was over too. So I bid the guys and gals farewell for this year, and walked the short distance to Charing Cross.

I had ten minutes to get there, but somehow took the wrong road off Trafalgar Square, though using my phone and with my one functioning braincell, I made it to Villiers Street, then up the stairs where I had three minutes to get on the train.

Thankfully, it was lightly used, so I got a table in the first carriage, and this train would take me all the way back to Dover, in about two hours, but that would do.

I messaged Jools to let her know I would be back at four, and she confirmed she's pick me up. So I could relax and enjoy the journey back south and east

Mist had cleared, and the late afternoon sun shone, illuminating the impressive clouds over the Channel.

Jools was indeed waiting, so she drove us home for an early supper of party food and a beer, then to the sofa for the Man Utd v Villa game, and I fell asleep in the second half with Villa 4-2, so failed to see Utd's comeback and last minute equaliser.