Sunday, May 9, 2021

The ceremony.

Another May bank holiday. The second of four this month. This time it's the commemoration of  the end of WW2. Usually all that happens is the mayor comes along, borrows a ladder and puts out the flags on the war memorial. 

This year the new mayor - who is standing for re-election in May and who faces a National Front candidate- decides to hold a ceremony. A dozen or so old combatants show up at five to eleven. They are shepherded into line. The old mayor, resplendent in blazer, grey trousers and his tartan pork pie hat, holds the flag. They then salute ( twice as some of them didn't hear the command the first time it was issued ), lay a wreath, sing the national anthem and then head off to the village hall for a non-socially distanced glass or two of wine. We would have missed the ceremony altogether had it not been for the fact the new mayor had brought along a 'boom box' and a tape of the Marseillaise to help with the singing of the national anthem. The tape has 'stretched' ever so slightly. This generates a stirring but somewhat unusual fast-slow-slow-fast  rhythm. Sophie who is keen to see what is going on is 'encouraged' in from her vantage point at the gate.



WFT Nobby said...

A tape?!

Coppa's girl said...

Oh dear, should one find that reading about the ceremony gave rise to laughter?

Tigger's Mum said...

The tartan pork pie hat boggled the mind and distorted the image of the solemnity of the occasion. Mind you (and no idea why) the first image that flashed involuntatily was of red tartan and that didn't help. How much support would National Front really glean in your deepest French profonde?

Yamini MacLean said...

Hari OM
... there are times I read here and am immediately reminded of Clochemerle!!! YAM xx

Taste of France said...

Lovely that the new mayor is making efforts.
In our village, a canon was blasted (also on Nov. 11). We were directly across from the war memorial and usually oblivious that the small parking area in front of our house (we were behind a big wall) had filled with the ancient cars of ancient veterans, only to have the boom make us jump out of our skins. A warbly Marseillais is much milder.