The 11:15 service at the war memorial. The mayor resplendent in beige rain coat, red tartan pork pie hat and tricoleur sash. He reads out the letter from the President of the Republic. Angus catches the unusual phrase " they died that France should retain her greatness and position in the world ". The children lay flowers then the names of the fallen are read out. 'Mort pour la France' intoned after each. The mayors grandfather the first on the list, Madame Bay's grandfather the third. She pulls a lace hanky out of her sleeve and wipes her eyes. The little lady in the purple hat climbs onto the steps surrounding the memorial and sings the Marseillaise. The tremulous sparrow of a voice drifting into the autumn air. The young farmers join in lustily if tunelessly. Not so much a sad day as a family one. The true France profonde.
On our way home 'the font' observes that this is our sixth Armistice Day in the Rickety Old Farmhouse.
A rare recording of the Marseillaise sung by the diction perfect Mireille Mathieu. Probably the best ever. Listen to the rrrr's. http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=SIxOl1EraXA