More hankies needed!

More hankies needed!

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The third and final event of the weekend was a concert in the grounds of the Geijsteren Castle, in a specially constructed marquee where 75 years ago, this would have been the front line. Completely sold out, we had been reserved priority seats and looked forward to an afternoon in rather lighter mood. Choirs from the neighbouring community and just over the border in Germany were also on the programme, all accompanied by a large military band.

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The afternoon got off to a cracking start as the drums and flag bearers arrived and made their way to the stage.

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Those sitting on the front row didn’t really have to duck as the flag throwing started in earnest!

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The first item on the programme was a band number, a military march of some significance it seemed, for the group sitting across from me all stood and began to wave their hankies! Interesting…

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After this morning’s experience, it was a delight to sit in the warm and dry, on comfortable seats and listen to a lively programme. One of the German choir contributions came as a surprise; I’d read the title “Frei und schwerelos” without thinking (Free and weightless) and smiled to myself as they began to sing. Did you work it out before I did?

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It was a great mix - nothing too long - and the first half was soon over. I followed the crowd to the back of the tent where there were cups of coffee and tiny celebratory cakes set out for all.

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As I chatted to a few people who were curious about the poppy I was wearing and where I was from, someone tapped me on the shoulder and I heard my name - the lady with the medals this morning. I milled around the crowd, finally finding a place to set down my cup at the same stehtisch as two ladies. I thought I’d take the chance to ask about that first march the band played. Was it a local thing? What was with the waving hankies?

They didn’t know. We chatted about other things (The Cotswolds, Limburg, the choir etc) but returning to my seat, I thought that I’d ask one of the group who were sitting across the aisle from me. I spotted the dapper man with a very distinctive and rather luxurious moustache and went over to ask. He beckoned a member of the band to explain (both spoke perfect English). They were both members of a now disbanded regiment, which nevertheless maintained the musical section including the band now on stage. The opening number had been their regimental march and the tradition is maintained of singing the second verse and taking a white handkerchief to wave during the third. How fascinating! I thanked both men profusely, complimented them on their proud heritage and we retook our seats for the second half.

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The second half progressed as well as the first, building to a crescendo of Glen Miller numbers, Vera Lynn singalongs and suchlike. The crowd were in fine voice!

And then I spotted the final number. A reprise of the regimental march and as the band struck the first chords my new best friend with the moustache turned around and signalled the hankie waving to me with a questioning look. Was I going to join in the tradition?! I scrabbled in my bag and found a packet of tissues, handling one to John, another Stuart Singer spouse so that I’d not be alone in my hankie waving enthusiasm! As the third verse approached, I got the wink from across the aisle and off we went, waving with the best of them - and then I heard a laugh from the row behind me…

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What lovely people! We laughed and joined in their fun and they responded in the most delightful manner.

The concert closed with a song sung by the German choir and the request that we hold hands with our neighbour. Nothing against John, standing by me, but I felt I had a made a new friend this afternoon, so I stepped over and offered my hand to the gentleman with the moustache and the serviceman next to him.

I didn’t have a free hand to dab my eye then….the tears just had to run down my cheek!

(and if you fancy waving a hankie yourself, you can see the band in action here)

In Groningen

In Groningen

Each in our own little puddle

Each in our own little puddle