Sgt. Pepper taught the band to play… No, hold on, that’s not right. It 20 years ago I became a Scout Leader. Er no, it was 21 years and 7 months. Hmm, let’s start again.
The other day I logged on to the Scout Association’s website to look up a few things and I thought I’d check my details while I was there. I was slightly surprised to read I’d now done 20 years as a Leader.
On my 20th birthday in 1991, I became an Assistant Beaver Scout Leader. Back then you had to be 20 to be an Assistant Leader and 21 to be a Section Leader. These days it’s 18 for both. My Group had just started its Beaver Colony and I became a Leader to complete part of my Queen’s Scout Award (which I subsequently got).
I think I did it for about a year, but then had to stop because I couldn’t get to the meetings on time, due to a change of job.
I didn’t do a great deal of Scouting in the next 18 months until I was asked if I wanted to be an Assistant Scout Leader. I said yes and after being Scout Leader and now Group Scout Leader, here I still am.
The missing 18 months hasn’t counted towards my service, but never mind.
In those years, the Sections have changed along with the programme and uniform, my Group had changed Districts and the Group has gone through its share of ups and downs, but we’re still here!
Obviously a lot has changed in that time, but we’re still giving young people the opportunity to enjoy varying and exciting activities.
However long 20 years sounds, it’s still not as impressive as one of the Leaders in my District who was given her 40 years service award this weekend!
2012 Remembrance Day Parade
Following on from our previous two Remembrance Day parades (2011 & 2010), we decided to get a little more adventurous!
Instead of just parading around the streets near our hall and on to Church and the Memorial, we started at one of our other local Churches (St. Barnabas Bradwell for those who know the area!) and then on to our War Memorial. It took around 15 minutes from start to finish! We had excellent support from the police who made sure the route was clear and we didn’t get run over!
The Scouts etc. were joined by members of the congregation of St. Barnabas Church, parish priest Fr. Andrew Knight and by a number of local Borough Councillors.
The parade was watched by many people along the route, including as it passed Regent Court, Frank Simpson, the Group’s oldest ex member who had served in the army in the Second World War and had friends in the Scouts who had been killed in action.
The Beavers carried poppies with the names of the 22 Porthill Scouts who had been killed while serving in the First and Second World Wars.
At Porthill’s War Memorial, a wreath was laid by a Scout and Guide in memory of all those killed and our youngest Beavers laid a wreath from Frank Simpson, in memory of the Scouts he knew who had been killed. Also, a wreath from Staffordshire County Council was laid on the Memorial.
The parade was very well attended and we think over 150 people walked from Bradwell to Porthill with us!
The Drum Corps were excellent and did us all proud!
More photos are in Group’s the Gallery.
Another Scout Hall Burgled
It’s sad to read that another of our local Scout halls has been burgled and around £5000 of equipment has been stolen. Hopefully the thieves will be caught and our friends from Werrington will get their stuff back.
Remember 11-11-12
DULCE ET DECORUM EST
Bent double, like old beggars under sacks,
Knock-kneed, coughing like hags, we cursed through sludge,
Till on the haunting flares we turned our backs
And towards our distant rest began to trudge.
Men marched asleep. Many had lost their boots
But limped on, blood-shod. All went lame; all blind;
Drunk with fatigue; deaf even to the hoots
Of tired, outstripped Five-Nines that dropped behind.
Gas! Gas! Quick, boys An ecstasy of fumbling,
Fitting the clumsy helmets just in time;
But someone still was yelling out and stumbling,
And flound’ring like a man in fire or lime…
Dim, through the misty panes and thick green light,
As under a green sea, I saw him drowning.
In all my dreams, before my helpless sight,
He plunges at me, guttering, choking, drowning.
If in some smothering dreams you too could pace
Behind the wagon that we flung him in,
And watch the white eyes writhing in his face,
His hanging face, like a devil’s sick of sin;
If you could hear, at every jolt, the blood
Come gargling from the froth-corrupted lungs,
Obscene as cancer, bitter as the cud
Of vile, incurable sores on innocent tongues,
My friend, you would not tell with such high zest
To children ardent for some desperate glory,
The old Lie: Dulce et decorum est
Pro patria mori.
by WILFRED OWEN 1917
Porthill Scouts Killed in World War 1 and World War 2
We will remember them
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