Remembering

I attended the Remembrance Sunday service in Horsell village. My village. I attend every year. I have never been to the service in Woking centre.

All the names on the war memorial are read out, clearly and reverently. Both world wars. There are so many duplicated surnames which makes one ponder on families with multiple bereavements. 

Many of the names are of families still in the area. They are people I knew of, and my mother and grandmother probably knew personally. That is why I like my local Remembrance service. 

If those named came back to us they would also be remembering. Those who died during the First World War would remember many of the landmarks [n the village – the church, the pubs, the village hall and the village institute. 

The war memorial was unveiled in 1920 so those who died in the First World War would have no memory of it.

If those whose names are read out in Jubilee Square could return, they would recognise very little. 

Christ Church was there, but very different from the way it looks now. Even the war memorial was not at its current site but in the green oasis known as Sparrow Park at the west end of Commercial Way – which they might remember as Commerical Road.

I have read a comment on social media that someone perceives that fewer people than usual were wearing a poppy.

I did not notice a lack of poppies but the small enamel poppy badge seems very popular and not as obvious to the casual viewer. So, were there more? Or less?

A portion of Horsell High Street was closed around the war memorial. The procession of youngsters from the Scouting family seemed to go on for ages: I wondered whether they were marching around behind the institute and back again to make it seem as though there were even more of them: it is estimated that there were about 250 of them, from the four-year-old Squirrels to the 18-year-old Explorers. 

And they stood so well for the period of the service which was led by the Rev Dmitry Lutsenko. He is, poignantly, from Ukraine where, after all these years, yet another war is being fought on European soil.

The area around the memorial was looking well cared for. As, indeed, is the memorial itself, thanks to the community spirit of Richard Ewins who, by his own volition, undertook the cleaning of the memorial at his own expense and after careful study of the cleaning process of such a monument.

He also, still at his own cost, replenished the planters around the memorial. 

Since the council stepped away from looking after public gardens many locals, individuals and groups, have stepped forward and I have been supplied with several excellent photographs of busy volunteers but I am only permitted one picture on this page and I'd reckon that none of the other volunteers were as cute as this scurry of Squirrels.

After the service many of us went to the village hall for refreshments kindly served by Horsell Evening WI – another opportunity to chat with friends and neighbours.

The village service was not the last act of Remembrance for the day: my daughter and I went on to the Remembrance Ceremony at Brookwood American Military Cemetery.

This was very different from what Horsell and Woking offered, opening with the National Anthem and The Star Spangled Banner, with speeches and the laying of many wreaths.

We were surrounded by rows of neat grave markers. Beside each was a Union flag and a Stars and Stripes flag. Names may not have been read out but the sight of all those headstones, each in memory of the dead, was very thought provoking. 

Afterwards some of us went to The Trench Experience for refreshments and still more chat and I met our Mayor, Cllr Louise Morales.

I marked Remembrance Day even further when, on the Monday, I had an appointment with my GP. It was at the eleventh hour of the eleventh day of the eleventh month.

Very aptly I was to give a sample of my blood prior to further chemotherapy two days later. And, very correctly, the bloodletting was delayed by two silent minutes.

Falling Leaves

Autumnal leaves look so beautiful on the trees. 

They still look beautiful when they float to earth and cover the ground with their reds and yellows – you might believe the streets are paved with gold at this time of year. 

But once trodden on, especially if there is rain, they turn to an unpleasant, and dangerous, mush.

In the past, the end of my road has sometimes become flooded in bad weather. 

The Rive Ponds on Horsell Common were dug to prevent this but home owners "down the end" remember flooded gardens and sheds and so out went the call on the local WhatsApp Group which covers both my road and the next one. 

And out went the residents with rakes and brooms and their green bins and the bins were soon full and the road gutters empty. The next day was Green Bin Day so the leaves did not linger.

I tend to add fallen leaves to my compost bins and having given the leaf-strewn lawn its last cut of the season there was grass mixed in the with the cut leaves, which will soon be making good compost. 

Not everyone has a compost bin, or even a compost pile, which seems a shame, but certainly the leaves of the whole of our road would not have fitted in all the green bins without some not-too-gentle tamping down.

Why do we brush with a brush but sweep with a broom? Whatever – some of the leaves had been driven over and would only succumb to a lawn rake. But up they came and the timing was just about perfect as that was the time most of the leaves came down, which event sometimes requires a frost to get things going.

Thinking of getting things going – it is always a good thing to get youngsters interested in gardening and, by extension, nature in general. 

I was delighted to read that my granddaughter had been invited to join the Flower Gardening Club at Beaufort Primary School. The school is going to apply to have a Beaufort allotment in next year's RHS Hampton Court Flower Show.

“We will need to start preparation now so we will have enough plants if our application is successful. If we are not successful, we will have grown lots of beautiful plants to use around school to make our environment beautiful and have grown into experienced gardeners ourselves.”  

The school was built on old nursery garden land so the soil should have good vibes.

Pillow Talk

I continue with my regular visits to St Luke's at The Royal Surrey Hospital in Guildford. 

Despite having a dedicated car park ticket said ticket does state that it in no way guarantees a parking place. That is very true. 

We have arrived and found an oncology bay straight away but there have been cases of traffic jams within the parking area itself as frustrated drivers impatiently hope for someone to exit the hospital and thus make space for them.

It is very frustrating and one of the first things the medics do is take your blood pressure. 

Sometimes they comment “It's a bit high!” and I suggest they let me calm down from the car parking experience. 

The same can apply to my temperature but I did once complicate matters by taking a sip of hot chocolate – the hospital serves a good hot chocolate – which upped my temperature alarmingly. A sip of water got that sorted.

I sound rather like a soldier being quizzed the way I automatically blurt out my name and date of birth as a row of eight digits. Weight: my family were delighted when it was discovered I had put on two pounds of weight – a year ago I'd have been pleased to lose that amount.

Onto a reclining chair with my feet comfortably raised and my reading matter to hand as someone approaches with the old cliché “just a small scratch” and I am attached by cannula to a bag hanging above me and slowly dripping into my arm.

No pain – not even any discomfort. It is quite relaxing knowing there is nothing I can do except read – no phones to answer – though many patients spend time looking at their screens - no WN&M page to write – although I do think about it. 

And there I stay until released and I may go home with my daughter. As to the pillow talk of the heading of this piece: my daughter has already met a college friend who has recently been diagnosed with cancer who ended up in the next easy chair to me and so we could chat. 

Then on my last visit I was hailed by name from across the room by an old friend and neighbour – it was his first session. 

I have wondered about comparing notes re treatment but decided against it. 

My daughters take it in turn to drive me to hospital – one of them is able to "work from home" on her laptop in the corridor in my plain sight. 

Other carers are likely to sit by her and chat. It doesn't help her to work but sometimes the conversation is interesting – and reassuring. 

On one occasion a lady chatted about the gentleman next to me, telling my daughter that he did not react well to treatment. 

Now my only reactions have been tiredness but my daughter felt it would be tactless to tell the worrying wife this as she may think that something was wrong with her husband. 

Well, obviously something was wrong or he would not have been sitting next to me in hospital, but you know what I mean. 

On my most recent visit, when I was hailed by my friend, he told me it was his first visit, and were there any useful pointers I could give him? 

Not really. His cancer is different from mine so I have no idea what he might expect and if I told him of my lack of reactions, might I worry him if he had bad reactions?

I confined myself to recommending the hot chocolate.