Some years ago, 25 in fact, we went on holiday to Northern France in a Gite near St Pois in Normandy. There was the four of us, Mrs O'Blene and two daughts and we were going for a long fortnight, (because we'd had a huge refund on the previous year, as the drains all blocked, the gas shower nearly killed a daughter, and the place was a shambles so we had a huge refund, but that's another story).
As the D Day events were in full swing, we were watching quite a lot of TV which showed the Pegasus Bridge celebrations, and the Landlady of the Cafe Gondree was on the box most evenings before we embarked via Newhaven for Dieppe.
When we visited, we noticed that the whole area is in fact quite low-key, even quietly reverent, and the sight of the old swing bridge parked in a field close by, almost as an after-thought, made us wonder at the way the 'invasion' was accepted, and that the good people of France had noticed that the Brits and the Yanks were indeed pretty adventurous people after all.
We felt uncomfortable at the museum in Caen, because that was a bit too navel-bliaring, (sic) but the simple narrative coming from the Pegasus Bridge, and the lovely lady, Arlette Gondree whom we immediately recognised, was that this was all a simple anecdote to a huge event, but a signal warning to oppressors, that nobody ignores the 'state' of the nation, however their duplicitous 'politicians' think otherwise.
It's a delightful place, and well worth a few minutes reflection on bravery, strength and fortitude; not the layabout-leftie-loser renta-mob trash so loved by the bbc, corbyn etc.
I saw two Spitfires overhead yesterday morning. It was a sight to be bottled and kept for ever, and the sound of the Merlin engines just crackled the heavens. A neighbour was inside her house, and she even heard it all and rushed out to cheer!
What a sight to behold!
7 comments:
I'd love to have seen and heard those Spitfires, the true sound of freedom.
I'd love to have heard those Spitfires too. Some years ago a Lancaster flew over our garden on its way to a flypast - what a sound that was.
They were fantastic, Thud!
Those enigmatic wings just throbbed with power, Britishness, design and the winning instinct.
I nearly fell off nmy ladder waving my arms in salute!
Several years ago, Mr H, I was at Folkestone Races on a business 'jolly'. We were all parked in the main stand to watch the nags battle around to win some sort of race (I'm not really into horse racing)!
But the high spot of the afternoon was seeing a Lancaster, a Spitfire and another jaw-breaking plane fly by at zero feet - such that we were looking down into the cockpits!
My goodness, I'll never, ever forget that.
My dear cousin-in-law is so into the Avro Lancaster bombers that she has several pics in the house and has actually sat in one. It's the sound they make that would make any Heinz sauce run into the nearest bunker and kiss his arse goodbye. With a Rolls-Royce engine and its later modification to carry the bouncing bomb designed by Barnes Wallis we owe so much to some British designers that has now been lost in the mists of politics and other hand-shaking deals which only serves one purpose. What that is I couldn't possibly say but the man called Tony Foulds who every day tends to the graves of those American airmen deserves some sort of honour in the Queen's birthday list.
GG, you have touched the heart of an ageing Scrobs so deeply, especially about Tony Foulds, I need a few days to reply.
I'm currently neighbour-in-chief of the wife of a dear man, and she's not happy on her own, while he's in a home not far away.
I hurt for them both. It's not a separate post, just an adjunct to the love we have for chums.
You reply when you're ready to find the right words. In the meantime and whatever you think about the BBC Breakfast programme which I like to watch whilst trying to do my daily Guardian Cryptic crossword, Dan Walker has earned a lot of respect from me because he believed this was something that should be recognised because he did a lot of background work and never took any acclaim whatsoever. It was all about his mate Tony and giving him the recognition for tending to those graves every single day that nobody even knew about. One of the things I loved most about Tony was the fact he didn't dress up for the occasion, he just wore some sort of padded jacket and a well-used cap that he waved to everyone. Why didn't he get a medal? He'd have just placed it around the area for them and not him.
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