For a while I'd known what awaited me on this Friday in Salisbury. But little could prepare me for the two funerals I was attending for people I'd never met.
A while back my colleague asked if I'd feel OK covering a Military funeral at Salisbury Cathedral. Despite a few curious questions running through my head after she asked me I happily obliged and agreed to attend and report, like news reporters do.
A Major in the British Army, the occasion would be marked with full military honours at one of the most beautiful locations in England.
On the day - with the work experience girl at my side - it's fair to say I did feel slightly unsettled with a mixed bag of emotions. We turned with plenty of time to spare and we were herded into the media pen opposite the Catherdral doors. A gentle sprinkling of rain seemed appropriate to the sombre mood as mourners gathered outside to pay their tributes.
Funeral etiqutte is something I'm not very experienced in as soon as I've only ever been to one funeral in my life. This lead to me being overly cautious about myself, thus making myself feel a little uncomfortable in my own skin. I mean ... It's a funeral for the second highest ranking British soldier to have died in Afghanistan for flips sake! Anyway, spoke a little softer than usual, walked a little slower and generally toned it down so I'd seem ultra respectful - I don't want this to sound as if I'm not respectful because I am :D. I just wanted to be super calm to avoid nervous gaffs.
It wasn't until we took our seats inside alongside the BBC, ITV and the rest of it, that the beauty of the architecture that held up this magnificent structure grasped my attention. It was simply stunning! And the artwork mind-blowing! Soon it dawned on me ... I was sat amongst heroes and part of something special on this day.
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Dazzled by the aforementioned I was soon startled by the sound of trumpets and the peaceful silence which followed as the coffin draped with the Union flag was slowly walked down the aisle to passing eyes. There must have been nearly a thousand people inside, over half in Uniform, looking smarter than anyone else it has to be said. And at the back there was me and the other journalists, impostors, sitting with our microphones trained at the speakers in a rather uncouth manner - candid, but we had a job to do. Safe to say I felt like an awkward sod though, especially due to the fact we had the riflemen sat behind us. Brilliant! I bet they thought we were rude.
Anyway, the ceremony was beautiful and certainly moving. Full of Army humor as close friends, relatives and colleagues took to the stand to pay their tributes. I especially enjoyed the feature of my favourite hymns, Jerusalem and Enigma (Nimrod Var). One pickle which I encountered was whether or not we should actively take part in the procession? Do we sing? Do we pray with everyone else? It seemed slightly inappropriate to do so as soon as were there not as mourners, but on a job. So myself, and the rest of the media teams chose to simply bow our heads during prayer, saying amen at the end. I read the words from the Order of Service and prayed and sang in my head so that the good Lord could see that I was doing my best to remain respectful and honor the dead :D
As the funeral drew to a close, a moment of silence outside as a troop fired a volley of shots into the clouded sky. Nothing but the snap of escaping bullets and the smell of gunpowder allerted the senses. Complete calm ....... And for a brief moment, Salisbury stood still. Men, women and children taking a minute ............. To say a lasting farewell to one of Britain's finest.
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