Tough Day

Yesterday I attended the Penistone Remembrance service, the first time in 17 years when I haven't been in Scout uniform. It was also the first time that I saw many of my scouts, since I left the movement in March.

I knew it was going to be tough, bring back memories, fond memories and probably upset me; but Remembrance Sunday means a lot, so rather than shy away I made the effort to attend. 

As a scout leader the whole preparation for me started in the weeks before Remembrance Sunday, sending out a letter asking all to attend, in uniform, with a poppy. Then just before the day running a meeting night with a remembrance theme emphasizing the importance. 

On the day itself, it meant turning up early armed with extra poppies, woggles, neckers and safety pins to replace items lost, forgotten or "in the wash". Then rolling neckers and adjusting collars and shirts, so that Scouts looked smart and presentable, and not like they had just rolled out of bed and the dog had chewed various items. 

Then the parade, not many teenagers want to march through their local town, in uniform, behind a brass band, with their parents and friends looking at them. So I used to try and make it fun, firstly I pointed out that they weren't being looked at as everyone was too busy laughing at the 6ft 3 fat bloke with a necker and woggle on and secondly I used to hum "Show me the way to Amarillo" which they used to join in with and before you knew it they were swinging their arms in reaction to the tune.

In the church, which was usually standing room only, I used to get them singing and joining in and when the national anthem was played I asked them to belt it out like a football chant. It used to get the rest of the congregation looking at them and smiling.

One of my favourite moments from the past, was a Scout putting his church collection money into the bucket of water that the vicar was using as a prop whilst giving his address to the congregation. It made everyone in the church laugh. 

Remembrance Sunday was a great day in the scouting world, seeing the kids you look after pay their respects and turn up in large numbers was brilliant. I loved it.

So yesterday was emotional, I held it together at first, I felt as if I could feel all the eyes of my former scouting colleagues on me, I imagined hearing them saying "there's Bruce". I listened to the service, sang 'O Valiant Heart', watched as the wreaths were laid and I had nearly coped with all of it, that was until, one of my scouts, Phoebe, who was filing into church gave me the biggest smile and the former chair of the group and good friend Steve Christopher came up and gave me a hug. It was at that point that I left with tears in my eyes not able to cope anymore, only to bump into Sally another ex-leader of the group and good friend, who seeing me upset tried to console me. I just wanted to get away and be by myself. I apologised, said I would be okay, got to the car and had a bloody good sob. 

Yes, just like my earlier blogs, it felt like being locked away in a glass box, not able to take part.

I miss my scouts, hopefully next year won’t feel saw raw and emotional.

Thanks Sally, Steve and Phoebe

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