drivergraham:
Wonder if I would get in to trouble parking on the hard shoulder
Probably will do if highway agency bods have anything to go by if a foreign vehicle will more likely get away with it.
It’s the police you’ll have to worry about, they can give you a ticket for illegal use of the hard shoulder - we can’t. 
lurpak:
GCR2ERF:
Don’t always have the opportunity to do that, but I will be on parade playing with my brass band through our town centre on Rememberance Day Sunday 10th, as we do every year - here’s hoping for a dry day!!+1
What band do you play for pal? I’m with Long Eaton Silver Prize Band (2nd section)
I will be stood outside Barnsley town hall suited and booted in my brogues with my poppy on, on Sunday as I have done for the past 15 year with a tear in my eye remembering all our brave lads and lasses who laid down there lives for this country and us. Then go have a few pints in there honour. Always make the effort rain or shine and I see it as this, what is giving up a couple of hour of your lives to remember the brave when they have given all of their lives so we can live ours?
Only ONE YEAR since 1945 has there been no recorded loss of life in the UK Armed Forces – that year was 1968, so , as we commemorate the Annual Remembrance Day Memorial Celebrations, just think of these young men and women , in the service of our Country, away from their loved ones.
They are doing their bit…
The average British soldier is 19 years old…he is a short haired, well built lad who, under normal circumstances is considered by society as half man, half boy. Not yet dry behind the ears and just old enough to buy a round of drinks but old enough to die for his country - and for you. He’s not particularly keen on hard work but he’d rather be grafting in Afghanistan than unemployed in the UK. He recently left comprehensive school where he was probably an average student, played some form of sport, drove a ten year old rust bucket, and knew a girl that either broke up with him when he left, or swore to be waiting when he returns home. He moves easily to rock and roll or hip-hop or to the rattle of a 7.62mm machine gun.
He is about a stone lighter than when he left home because he is working or fighting from dawn to dusk and well beyond. He has trouble spelling, so letter writing is a pain for him, but he can strip a rifle in 25 seconds and reassemble it in the dark. He can recite every detail of a machine gun or grenade launcher and use either effectively if he has to. He digs trenches and toilets without the aid of machines and can apply first aid like a professional paramedic. He can march until he is told to stop, or stay dead still until he is told to move.
He obeys orders instantly and without hesitation but he is not without a rebellious spirit or a sense of personal dignity. He is confidently self-sufficient. He has two sets of uniform with him: he washes one and wears the other. He keeps his water bottle full and his feet dry. He sometimes forgets to brush his teeth, but never forgets to clean his rifle. He can cook his own meals, mend his own clothes and fix his own hurts. If you are thirsty, he’ll share his water with you; if you are hungry, his food is your food. He’ll even share his life-saving ammunition with you in the heat of a firefight if you run low.
He has learned to use his hands like weapons and regards his weapon as an extension of his own hands. He can save your life or he can take it, because that is his job - it’s what a soldier does. He often works twice as long and hard as a civilian, draw half the pay and have nowhere to spend it, and can still find black ironic humour in it all. There’s an old saying in the British Army: ‘If you can’t take a joke, you shouldn’t have joined!’
He has seen more suffering and death than he should have in his short lifetime. He has wept in public and in private, for friends who have fallen in combat and he is unashamed to show it or admit it. He feels every bugle note of the ‘Last Post’ or ‘Sunset’ vibrate through his body while standing rigidly to attention. He’s not afraid to ‘Bollock’ anyone who shows disrespect when the Regimental Colours are on display or the National Anthem is played; yet in an odd twist, he would defend anyone’s right to be an individual. Just as with generations of young people before him, he is paying the price for our freedom. Clean shaven and baby faced he may be, but be prepared to defend yourself if you treat him like a kid.
He is the latest in a long thin line of British Fighting Men that have kept this country free for hundreds of years. He asks for nothing from us except our respect, friendship and understanding. We may not like what he does, but sometimes he doesn’t like it either - he just has it to do… Remember him always, for he has earned our respect and admiration with his blood.
And now we even have brave young women putting themselves in harm’s way, doing their part in this tradition of going to war when our nation’s politicians call on us to do so
Such a shame that the soldiers who give/ put their lives on the line are no longer doing it to give us freedoms, but are slaves to the ‘elite’ and their pursuit of riches 
bestbooties:
Only ONE YEAR since 1945 has there been no recorded loss of life in the UK Armed Forces – that year was 1968, so , as we commemorate the Annual Remembrance Day Memorial Celebrations, just think of these young men and women , in the service of our Country, away from their loved ones.They are doing their bit…
The average British soldier is 19 years old…he is a short haired, well built lad who, under normal circumstances is considered by society as half man, half boy. Not yet dry behind the ears and just old enough to buy a round of drinks but old enough to die for his country - and for you. He’s not particularly keen on hard work but he’d rather be grafting in Afghanistan than unemployed in the UK. He recently left comprehensive school where he was probably an average student, played some form of sport, drove a ten year old rust bucket, and knew a girl that either broke up with him when he left, or swore to be waiting when he returns home. He moves easily to rock and roll or hip-hop or to the rattle of a 7.62mm machine gun.
He is about a stone lighter than when he left home because he is working or fighting from dawn to dusk and well beyond. He has trouble spelling, so letter writing is a pain for him, but he can strip a rifle in 25 seconds and reassemble it in the dark. He can recite every detail of a machine gun or grenade launcher and use either effectively if he has to. He digs trenches and toilets without the aid of machines and can apply first aid like a professional paramedic. He can march until he is told to stop, or stay dead still until he is told to move.
He obeys orders instantly and without hesitation but he is not without a rebellious spirit or a sense of personal dignity. He is confidently self-sufficient. He has two sets of uniform with him: he washes one and wears the other. He keeps his water bottle full and his feet dry. He sometimes forgets to brush his teeth, but never forgets to clean his rifle. He can cook his own meals, mend his own clothes and fix his own hurts. If you are thirsty, he’ll share his water with you; if you are hungry, his food is your food. He’ll even share his life-saving ammunition with you in the heat of a firefight if you run low.
He has learned to use his hands like weapons and regards his weapon as an extension of his own hands. He can save your life or he can take it, because that is his job - it’s what a soldier does. He often works twice as long and hard as a civilian, draw half the pay and have nowhere to spend it, and can still find black ironic humour in it all. There’s an old saying in the British Army: ‘If you can’t take a joke, you shouldn’t have joined!’
He has seen more suffering and death than he should have in his short lifetime. He has wept in public and in private, for friends who have fallen in combat and he is unashamed to show it or admit it. He feels every bugle note of the ‘Last Post’ or ‘Sunset’ vibrate through his body while standing rigidly to attention. He’s not afraid to ‘Bollock’ anyone who shows disrespect when the Regimental Colours are on display or the National Anthem is played; yet in an odd twist, he would defend anyone’s right to be an individual. Just as with generations of young people before him, he is paying the price for our freedom. Clean shaven and baby faced he may be, but be prepared to defend yourself if you treat him like a kid.
He is the latest in a long thin line of British Fighting Men that have kept this country free for hundreds of years. He asks for nothing from us except our respect, friendship and understanding. We may not like what he does, but sometimes he doesn’t like it either - he just has it to do… Remember him always, for he has earned our respect and admiration with his blood.
And now we even have brave young women putting themselves in harm’s way, doing their part in this tradition of going to war when our nation’s politicians call on us to do so
I had to stop half way through that as I couldn’t see. Thank you
Just to keep our minds focused,another sad loss this week.Someone’s son,brother,husband,boyfriend?
RIP Soldier,stand easy,your duty is done.
We will remember them!
Stood 100 yards from the cenotaph at 11am today for the 2 minutes silence and watched the parade walk towards me before turning right, was 6 feet from the parade.was a humbling experience seeing brave soldiers medals and cap badges shining in the sunshine.
Plenty of medals watching the parade aswell.hundreds of people silent was a sight to be seen only 4 people talking and laughing during the silence (german tourists but they got told to be quiet by an ex soldier covered in medals).
Was a pleasure to be there
Jeff.
Nice one Jeff 
I bet your experience was full of different emotions.
On September 7th 1920, in strictest secrecy four unidentified British bodies were exhumed from temporary battlefield cemeteries at Ypres, Arras, the Asine and the Somme. None of the soldiers who did the digging were told why.
The bodies were taken by field ambulance to GHQ at St-Pol-sur-Ternoise. There the bodies were draped with the Union Flag. Sentries were posted and Brigadier-General Wyatt and a Colonel Gell selected one body at Random.
A French honour guard was selected, who stood by the coffin overnight. In the morning of the 8th a specially designed coffin made of oak from the grounds of Hampton Court was brought and the Unknown Warrior placed inside. On top was placed a Crusaders Sword and a shield on which was inscribed ‘A British Warrior who fell in the Great War 1914-1918 For…King and Country’.
On the 9th of November the Unknown Warrior was taken by horse drawn carriage through Guards of Honour and the sound of tolling bells and bugle calls to the Quayside.
There it was saluted by Marechal Foche and loaded onto HMS Verdun bound for Dover…The coffin stood on the deck covered in wreaths and surrounded by the French Honour Guard. On arrival at Dover the the Unknown Warrior was greeted with a 19 gun salute, normally only reserved for field marshals. He then traveled by special train to Victoria station London.
He stayed there overnight and on the morning of the 11th of November he was taken to Westminster Abbey. The Idea of the Unknown Soldier was thought of by a Padre called David Railton who had served at the front during the Great War and it was the Union Flag he used as an altar cloth at the front, that had been draped over the coffin. The intention was that all relatives of the 517,773 combatants whose bodies had not been identified could believe that the Unknown Warrior could very well be their lost Husband, Father, Brother or Son…
Every year on the 11th of November I remember the Unknown Warrior…Respect.
The Spirit
When there ain’t no gal to kiss you,
And the postman seems to miss you,
And the ■■■■ have skipped an issue,
Carry on.
When ye’ve got an empty belly,
And the bulley’s rotten smelly,
And you’re shivering like a jelly,
Carry on.
When the Boche has done your chum in,
And the sergeant’s done the rum in,
And there ain’t no rations comin’,
Carry on.
When the world is red and reeking,
And the shrapnel shells are shrieking,
And your blood is slowly leaking,
Carry on.
When the broken battered trenches,
Are like the bloody butchers’ benches,
And the air is thick with stenches,
Carry on.Carry on,
Though your pals are pale and wan,
And the hope of life is gone,
Carry on.
For to do more than you can
Is to be a British man,
Not a rotten ‘also ran,’
Carry on.
‘Woodbine Willy’
WW2 in colour is on all day on Yesterday. I’ve watched most in the evenings of last week but got a couple still to see. Well worth watching, and the one about Mussolinis’ incompetence is brilliant if you liked Allo Allos’ take on the Itis.
Never realised how hopeless the Italians were, thank christ they sided with Germany.
I was in asda today and an announcement came on the tannoy , was nice to see/hear everyone stop for the 2mins barring a couple of women wandering about looking at things 
It’s a bank holiday over here tomorrow, veterans day so I’ll be off down the cenotaph for our service.
It’s great how over here the whole country gets behind veterans and current serving members. Saw in the US one resturant a serving member could walk in wearing uniform and receive his meal for free, American Airlines give serving members in uniform a free upgrade to first class if any seats are empty. It doesn’t cost em much and it shows respect and a thank you guys.
I went with the girls and their mum to our local parade, not the one I usually go to. What a ■■■■■■■ shower of ■■■■ that was.
Cadets dressed like they’d been dipped in a charity shop, their officers looking like they’d borrowed dad’s uniform and ironed it with a cold mess tin. Disgusting.
The sermon was about jelly babies ( actually relevant and fairly decent) the rest of the service was either about David ■■■■■■■ Laws and our town Mayor. Nothing about wounded servicemen or giving thanks for the fallen. Utter ■■■■■■
I shan’t be going to that parade again and I feel bad for those that haven’t been to a decent parade.
I suppose the fact they bothered at all but it wasn’t great at all.
I must add that for the other 364 days of the year it is the duty of a Canadian citizen to personally thank any servicemen or women that they might meet during their daily lives , a small gesture which goes a long way . The minority/PC factor can go swivel .
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I used to work at the Defence Section in the British High Commission in Ottawa. On numerous occasions i had members of the public come up to me and shake my hand and thank me for my service.
Never once had that happen over here.
Blackadder Goes Forth dvd covers all bases for me.
A British film called The Trench with Daniel Craig for WW1. For WW2 A Bridge Too Far, Battle Of The Bulge and The Longest Day. I have/ had a coloursised version of TLD on VHS but I’d love a colour DVD of it (the wife wouldn’t).
Talking of films, I will watch most war films, but for me, you can’t beat a B&W British film. The Cockleshell Heroes, Sink the Bismarck, Above Us the Waves, Ice Cold in Alex, The Hill, Bridge over the River Kwai (Some US input), The Wooden Horse, In Which We Serve,
Obviously many of these were based on actuall events and generally weren’t too hyped up as some American films were.
So many amazing deeds.