Yesterday's blog was quite long in a quite longish sort of way. I hope you managed to get through it
As usual at this point in the month I'm busy with Hethersett Herald. Somebody posted a press cutting on a Norfolk related site of a wedding in our parish church.
It wasn't just any old wedding but that of the sister of the then Rector. Betty Anally was getting married and it caused quite a stir in the local newspaper. It also gave me the first photo I have seen of the Rector the Rev James McAnally whom I have written about quite a lot in the past. He was the man who famously referred to Adolph Hitler as "an honourable man."
Two days before the wedding there was a preview piece in the press and the day before a notice that trains from Norwich to London and from London to Norwich would be making an unscheduled stop at Hethersett to facilitate wedding guests. I could see that happening today (not). There was a lengthy description of the wedding in the press the day after. It's a lovely piece of social history.
And so to our Remembrance Sunday ceremony.
I was reminded at the Remembrance Service that when it comes to taking notes it's still necessary to go old school
I now largely take notes on my mobile phone. It saves having to carry pens and notepads around. But it does have its limitations. In church on Sunday I took a notepad and pens in case I wanted to take notes of the address. That's address as in sermon and not address as in the place you live. It would have looked wrong if I had started writing notes on my phone as that would have looked rude and people would have assumed, wrongly in this case, that I was playing games or doing other things that would have been insulting to the person speaking.
I learnt early on in my journalistic career that even a notebook and pen could be intimidating to some people. So I always carry a scrap of paper and pencil as it is less off-putting. Most people of course don't mind a notebook and I know many/ most reporters today will use a mobile phone to record an interview. I often think that's even more off-putting however. We were told at college to carry a fag packet with us to make notes on but I think that was carrying the idea a little too far, particularly as I have never smoked. I suppose I could have rummaged around in a bin, but then again no.
One of my bloggettes paid me a nice compliment when she said I could never be replaced by AI as my blogs had far too much humour in them. How long before robots develop a sense of humour?
I love a cartoon series that comes up on my Facebook feed and which I've mentioned before. It features an elderly couple - Earl and Opal Pickles and their family which seems to consist of a cat, a dog, a daughter and son in law and grandson Nelson. The humour is very sharp and often so true.
I particularly like the one that came up yesterday where Earl is flaked out in a chair. Daughter Julie remarks that he is looking worn out. "I've been shopping with your mother for eight hours," he replies. "But dad you were only gone an hour and a half," says Julie." "Yeah but shopping hours are much longer," comes the reply. Sounds very much like a round of clothes shopping with the other threequarters.
Got a couple of things mangled in yesterday's blog. I used the word fissure rather than frisson.
My only defence is that when I write as much and as quickly as I do I have a tendency to make a few mistakes. That's why we have had a professional proof reader going through our book on the Le Paradis Massacre. I wouldn't want to get anything grammatically wrong in that.
And so to Remembrance Sunday. The village outdid itself this year. There seemed to be more youngsters from the uniformed organisations than ever. Scouts, Guides etc etc seem to be flourishing in Hethersett.
Taking photographs of young people is often problematic in our modern society. It's difficult ensuring that there are permissions in place to safeguard children. I always check with parents etc before taking photos but with a meeting of large numbers such as the remembrance commemoration this isn't possible. Sometimes, like yesterday it goes the other way.
A mum asked me where my photographs would be published and I assumed she was going to ask for pictures of her son not to be published. Quite the opposite. She was sad that I didn't capture his laying of the wreath. So I got him to lay it again and that proved to be my favourite photo of the day. I believe the young man's name was Morgan. I hope you like some of my shots.
The church for the remembrance service was packed. It was as poignant as ever.