Handbags and standards

Every now and again, there is a standard bearer at a ceremony that I conduct. I live in a place that folks retire to and many of my families are seeing off someone with war experience.

Recently, however, there were two standard bearers, thanks to the gent's military history.

I have got to know one of the chaps, Bert, pretty well. He likes to know the intricate detail of the ceremony, so that he knows when to do his part and I'm happy to go through this with him. The other chap, Ted, I hadn't met, but he seemed a charming gentleman who was much more relaxed, happy for me to just give him the nod etc. Watching the two together, however, was very amusing.

Bert spent a good five minutes telling Ted what he normally does (as in "this is what we're going to do"). Ted, being laid back, took it all on board and went along with it, but not without the raising of eyebrows and sly little smiles at me. It started to get a bit catty ("Can I have a chair?"  - "A chair? I always stand!") and I found them each lovely in their way, but very funny when together.

Of course, both gents knew what they were doing, were very respectful of why they were there and performed their solemn task with all of the dignity and decorum that was requred.

But as they stood there, either side of the crem facing each other, standards raised, I couldn't help but think to myself  that if the standards had been light sabres, we'd all be dead.