Normandy 2016, Day 3...

Normally on days off, or on holiday, I tend to sleep late. So much for that idea. At 05:30, I was woken by one of the lads (I’ll mention no names, Dave!) alarm clock. Ugh. So, realising that I wasn’t likely to get much more sleep at all, got up, and grabbed a shower. By 08:00, we were on the road, heading for Bayeux.

The Monday saw more traffic on the Péage motorway, but nowhere near the levels that I’d been expecting, even considering that HGV traffic was once again using the road. It was quite an eye ­opener, and made me wonder just how much of the freight that travels to all parts of France gets there ­ - do they use their railway that much more than we do? Guess that’s a topic for another time, anyway.

By 9 a.m. we were in Bayeux, and found a little café that the lads visited last year, which served a very nice ham and eggs - ­ no damned McDonald today! We also met the dogs that apparently tried to be *very* friendly with Dave’s leg last year... apparently, the poor mutt had learned his lesson from last year, to much amusement from the rest of us!

Still a bit misty, but the
gothic impressiveness
of the place takes your
breath away!

The Cathedral at Bayeux was the reason we were present, and was the focus for the Royal British Legion (RBL) service of remembrance for D­-Day.

There was one major spoilage to the event, however. The Air Cadets, who we met previously, had been asked to attend, and did so in their best uniforms, with flag bearers.

As they understood it, they were to take part in the parade within the cathedral.

Either this was wrong, someone got crossed wires, or someone changed their mind, as a completely and utterly disgusting insult to the Air Training Corps followed: The cadets, in entirety, were told to leave. In full view of the local media’s cameras.

Inside, before the
service started. Minus
the Air Cadets.

So, rather than cause a massive scene, they did as asked, with dignity; the cadets out of the side doors, their flag party smartly marching out the front doors. They were understandably upset, angry, and very hurt over this slap in the face.

Whoever told them to leave needs to be held to account, as it was a completely unnecessary insult to the Air Cadets and Her Majesty, as the cadets obviously bore a Colours flag bearing the Crown insignia (the ATC was formed on the command of a Royal Warrant, unlike the other Cadet services).

This is an argument for another place, by people with scrambled egg on the visors of their caps, but someone in the RBL needs to be brought to account over this disgusting incident. It cast a pall over the rest of the proceedings.

After the service, the remaining flag bearers and band marched up to the Commonwealth War Graves Commission Cemetery at the top of the hill (with one vastly entertaining hiccup ­ the band, leading the parade, took left turn downhill followed by a right turn uphill, smack dab into a cul-de-sac, and had to perform a swift about turn on the march to get back onto line of route!).

Normally, I’d expect the RBL to provide a marshalling team to prevent this sort of foul­-up, but apparently, they either didn’t feel it was necessary, or they didn’t turn up. Either way, it was the only amusing feature of the day.

Once at the cemetery, we kept a weather eye on both the veterans and the cadets again, as the day had turned out to be very hot indeed.

By the end of the service at the cemetery, several veterans and a few cadets had needed to be treated for heat exhaustion; the medics on­-site were excellent, and did what was needed, but the sheer volume of patients they had to work with was somewhat larger than they’d been expecting, so once again, we ended up providing immediate first aid to the cadets, to reduce the paramedics workload.

I’m glad to say that none of those treated required anything more than shade, cooling down, and water, and they all recovered swiftly.

After this, we made our way to Arromanches on the coast. Apparently, last year, the lads had made such a good impression with someone of some import at Rots, that we’d been asked to attend the Arromanches commemorations with a view to lending help with the marshalling of the event.

To cut a long story short, we liaised with the organisers, the Royal Marines (there to provide the Veterans escorts in the parade), the First Aid team provided by the QARANCs (Queen Anne’s Royal Army Nursing Corps), and the local security and Police Municipale. Quite a tall order, but we pulled it off nicely, with no bent noses, and quite a bit of fun along the way. I was too busy to take photos this time, but I’ll try again next year :­)

Dinner that evening was a burger and fries on the sea front (miles better than the McDonald’s stuff over here!)

And yes, we made a fair few new friends along the way :­)

BBC Magazine article: "Which should come first - cheese or pudding?"... a considered response...!

Every so often, the Beeb tends to publish somewhat thought-provoking and even contentious articles, designed to incite debate. At least, that's their stated intent. This time however, I'm not at all sure if their tongues were either well inside their cheeks, or intent on setting others tongues (mostly those belonging to members of the middle and upper class) wagging vociferously.

In a formal and traditional middle and upper class setting, when someone says that something is Just Not Done, attention should be immediately be paid in full to what it is that they're talking about. Now, someone saying that something "Just isn't Cricket, Old Boy", is saying that something isn't fair, or has been deliberately improperly performed - not adhering to the rules of the game, so to speak.

But "Not Done"? Wow. This is the sort of comment that results in cups of tea being spilled. They see transgressions of established tradition as being the cornerstone of the Fall Of Empire, or some similar level of horror. You get the idea: Indignation unbounded by reason.

And in this case, it's all about the format of the formal dinner setting...

Here's the thing. It seems that a certain food writer, who appears on the face of things to be something of a progressive in these things, and who appeared on a BBC 2 programme last night, has said something so shocking, so subversive, that society as a whole could be set on the verge, nay the cusp, of complete and utter social disarray...

So, what was the comment that set right-minded civilisation on the edge of annihilation?

That the dessert course should be the last course in a formal dinner, not the cheese course.

"I'm sorry. She said WHAT?!"

For those who have never even heard of the formal dinner format, here's a couple of points to note. Formal gatherings of people of note - normally royalty, politicians, high society, and similar - have evolved over the centuries, and came to the peak of their development in the Victorian Era. They've pretty-much stayed in the same general format ever since; this format is known the world over, and despite regional variations, is fairly similar wherever you go, these days.

A formal dinner was the pinnacle of this high social one-upmanship "my brass thing's better than your brass thing" system, and while the reasons for the meals may have gone from childish faux Public School-like shoe-size mentality bragging, to more mature themes, the events themselves are no less special.

These days, a formal dinner is a structured meal, normally held to honour a distinguished guest, or to celebrate a special event, or what have you, where all the participants are on their best behaviour, and dressed to the nines in high formal wear.

So, if you've seen any period dramas on the television, such as "Upstairs Downstairs", or "Downton Abbey", or watched high society documentaries and such like, they've featured in those a fair bit, so you should have a fair idea of the format involved.

I've been to a few, mostly when I was a Territorial Army soldier, which were either the Company Annual Camp Dinner (not too formal, but where smart wear, such as a decent suit, is required), or the Regimental Christmas Dinner, where the appropriate formal uniform was generally required (somewhat appropriately, it's called "Mess Dress").

I've also been to a couple of civilian formal dinners over the years, most recently my Company's Annual Awards Dinner (where I rather proudly received my 10-years long service award. Good God. I've been on the buses for TEN YEARS?! Wow. Ahem. Moving back on topic again, now...).

The - ahem - HESH-tab-eh-lished format...

So, what goes into a formal dinner? Well, it depends on the length of the meal, or in how many courses - parts - the meal is to be served. The average number is five, but your meals may vary upon the event and the organiser(s) involved.

Here's a fairly typical five course format in the civilian mode, Regimental ones being ever-so-slightly more involved and formal (understatement) occasions...

• Starter
  A small dish, to get the appetite moving. Normally a consommé (a clear, light soup), or maybe a pâté of some type on some form of crisp bread or toast.
• Fish
  As it says: This is a small serving of fish, normally with a few appropriate vegetables.
• Main
  This is (pun intended) the meat of the meal. Red or White meat, with the appropriate vegetables and sauces, if required.
• Pudding
  The sweet, or dessert, course.
• Cheese
  A selection of cheeses, served with water or dry biscuits. Coffee will normally be served at the same time, as well.

There are also conventions - accepted rules - on what kinds of wines to serve with certain courses - fowl and fish, for example, are almost always accompanied by white wine, with beef, gammon, and other red meats being accompanied by red wines.

Port, a fortified wine, is normally served after the cheese course in more formal dinner settings (there are clear, if slightly strange, traditional rules regarding how it is handled once at the table, the origins for these rules having being lost in the mists of time).


The rocking of the boat...

So when Mrs. Berry made her comment, traditionalists were aghast. The monocles of many of those dyed-in-the-wool traditionalists probably rocketed almost explosively out of their sockets at the speed of sound. Cups of tea were certainly spilled in utter shock and horror!

They think the idea of serving the cheese before the dessert - or "Pudding" - course, is akin to passing the Port to the right at a Regimental Dinner - One just Does Not Rock The Boat of tradition in that manner, in those social circles - it's Just Not Done (spot the capitals and italicisation there).

On a more practical note...

There's also, I suspect, a more reasoned cause for the dropped optical aids at work here. In traditional formal dinners, the cheese course is accompanied, as mentioned above, by the Port. It is at this time that various brief speeches and toasts are given to the assembled high muck-a-mucks. It is far easier - and eminently more practical - to pause chomping in a cheese course, than it is in a pudding course. Cheese is already cold - certain desserts - puddings - are not. All things considered, probably the last thing you want is for a properly cooked and delivered dessert to be ruined half-way-through devouring it, because you had to stand during, for example, the Loyal Toast. Cheeses are much more forgiving, in those circumstances, after all.

So, for my money, Pudding Before Cheese. Always.

And to hell with the Progressives!

HARUMPH!