Thoughts on VE Day

I was steeped in nostalgia, pomp and panoply this morning after hurrying back from shopping in town. Nobody does a better job than Britain of bringing out the troops and horses for a spectacular theatrical procession of the military; all that sound and atmosphere of marching boots, shiny breastplates, jingling horse brass, plumed hats, bearskins, the swing of kilts with pipes and drums giving it laldy. It was of course to commemorate VE Day in 1945 which, unlike most of you, I remember… just.

  I have a clear memory of my uncle who had a car taking my mother and me to collect my young brother from a nursing home in Manor Place (pre NHS) where he had had his adenoids and tonsils removed . No kitchen table job for the young master. 
The church bells were ringing in Palmerston Place as we drove home and I naively thought that was for Robin getting out of hospital but they were in fact to celebrate VE Day. My Father was in the army at the time and my uncle who had fought in World War 1 was too old to be called up.

My blip is of a certificate from King George VI which was handed out to school children the following year. I do remember running home from school along WarrenderPark Road with it in my hand to show my mother without quite understanding what it was. My copy has got lost or been destroyed in the intervening 79 years and so this is an internet image.