The ceremony.

Nothing happens and then everything happens at once.

The ceremony at the Monument aux Morts is a little late starting. The attempt to move the dead pigeon that has wedged itself under the clapper of the church bell has been unsuccessful. Instead of ringing the church bell makes an undignified thud thud thud sound. 

We can see that the crowd that has shown up for the ceremony is divided into two roughly equal parts. Adherents of the German billionaires builder cluster to the left while supporters of the Anger Management Man are gathered to the right.  We position ourselves in a neutral position on a corner of the war memorial nearest the church. We smile noncommittally in a way which we hope exudes impartiality. I fear that smiling noncommittaly is akin to grinning inanely and makes us look sixpence short of a shilling. In the absence of a default position I keep this thought to myself.

When everyone is finally ready, a mere quarter of an hour late, the new mayor starts the ceremony. The names of the dead are read out, a wreath is laid, a speech from the President about amity amongst nations is delivered. A man dressed from head to toe in black ,in the style of an Armenian gangster, appears with a boom box. He places this on the war memorial steps. He disappears, then reappears with a length of electrical wire. This is plugged into the back of the boom box and the other end to a power socket in his Ford Mondeo. A discussion with the mayor ensues about something we can't quite hear. There is arm waving. The Armenian gangster disappears again. At this point a white flat bed truck comes through the village. The driver gets down and asks is anyone would like to buy firewood. The mayors wife shoos him away. The boom box springs into life to the sound of the Marseillaise performed by the Paris National Orchestra and choir . The villagers join in lustily only to have to start again when they discover they've been singing along to the fanfare. We sing one and a half verses of the national anthem . The intent was to sing one verse but the Armenian gangster is somewhat slow in unplugging the boom box so we get an extra half verse.

At the end of the ceremony the new mayor announces that the Interior Minister will be coming to the village to present a medal to the old mayor for his many years of service. A visitor from Paris. This promises to be an event not to be missed.

According to this helpful map Scotland is on the same latitude as one of those places the Alaska cruise boats stop at :

This is a a very theatrical London afternoon tea. Why this should be considered something the Brits do is beyond me  :https://lilyvanilli.com/afternoon-tea/