Sky

& Bullets

Musings on the worlds of aviation, military and international affairs.

 

With reviews of books that cover these topics

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sandb@paulsmiddy.co.uk

I remember the funeral of Winston Churchill only because (at a very tender age) we were made to do a “project” on it. I still have the cut & paste scrapbook. It is a fair bet we will not see another near-state funeral of an ex-PM in what remains of my lifetime; so, combined with the fact that SOD™ was on duty for the event, it felt right and proper to join the throng.

Baroness Thatcher's Funeral

It was one of those days (and they are becoming rarer) when one felt proud to be British. There was a real sense of pride and community in London’s air. Perhaps I am biased, but it again proved that the British are the best in the world at staging ceremonial events. Standing on Ludgate Hill, we were treated to a warm-up by the Royal Marines Band, who were on good form. The security presence, both covert and overt,  was enormous. (I would be a buyer at a total cost of £10m). Two well-built men in t-shirts (bit of a giveaway) sidled up to me and took the man at my side way for 15 minutes of questioning. Given he had been perusing intently a paper or thesis on public health management issues, I don’t think he was prime terrorist material! Although he sported a beard, when I later commiserated with him for losing his prime spot for the important 15 minutes, he spoke in an accent redolent of Glasgow rather than Waziristan.

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