Representing a Common Heritage
Representing a Common Heritage
It looked quite a pleasant evening although the wind coming down the Thames was pretty chilly as Pete Berry and I wandered around waiting to meet the rest of the Association party attending the Ceremony of the Keys at the Tower of London. The “Northerners” led by Geordie joined us, together with people from the Norwegian Embassy, some Transport police and a few other ex-military types. Eventually, Bob McBey led the rest of our group into sight; we were all set for what turned out to be a fascinating and funny evening.Once inside the Tower we were asked to gather around our host for the night Yeoman Warder Mark Anderson. It quickly became apparent that political correctness has yet to breach the Tower’s walls! After sorting his priorities by taking our bar order he went on to establish the nationality of those present.The English were safe, less so the Scots and Welsh, we learned that the Americans ruined our language and “No French – Good”. It became clear why later as Mark, in a rare solemn moment, pointed to the Union Flag atop the White Tower lamenting that men had died for the red, white and blue of that flag.
He acknowledged the Norwegian flag was also of the same colours, and the American one too – “stripy thing, horizontal isn’t it”. The French flag was also red, white and blue….in vertical stripes….very convenient to rip off the coloured outer sections to leave a white flag when the Germans come!
The history tied up within the Tower is incredible. Mark rattled through it like a belt fed mortar but I’m going to ask you to look it up if you’re interested! We sat in the Church where our monarchs have prayed on the night before their coronation and where quite a lot of Henry VIII’s wives are buried having met their deaths on a piece of grass just outside the Church.
The Keys Ceremony itself has been held every day for centuries. The Tower, a Royal Palace, was a dark and eerie place before street lights and with 13 pubs within its walls it was perhaps not the safest place to be after dark. Edward III returned to the Tower one night in December 1340 and was able to walk straight in unchallenged. So it was decreed that the Tower should be locked between sunset and sunrise; the Duke of Wellington, in 1826, fixing this to 2200hours.Warder Mark briefed that we would see the Chief Yeoman Warder “mince” – he was after all RAF – to join his escort: 2 sentries, a sergeant and a drummer who then carries the candle lantern. Having locked up the party return to the centre of the Tower where, in the gloom, they are challenged:“Halt, who comes there?”“The Keys”“Whose Keys?”“Queen Elizabeth’s Keys”“Pass Queen Elizabeth’s Keys,. All’s well.”The Guard, made up from The Royal Gibraltar Regiment, then saluted The Queen and the Last Post rang out. The Queen’s Keys were then returned to the safety of The Resident Governor.
The ceremony over, we returned to the Warders’ Bar for some’ refreshment” and a raffle. Larry Marriott managed to win a bottle of Tower Port and generously stated that it wasn’t leaving the bar in a bottle; we proudly toasted The Queen. Some men have it others watch in awe….like me!. Jim Coleman seemed to be the centre of attention for the younger women present they clucked and cooed round him as if he was some old veteran…oh, he is!A happy bunch, we were kicked out of a now open gate at about midnight to wobble our way back to the Travelodge. Some diverted via a hotdog stall. On return to the Hotel one of our men was missing. Where’s Jim….everyone looked at Bob who had been looking after him all evening and is, of course, skilled in all things search and rescue. Buggered if I know….luckily Jim came round the corner….the attention of all those women clearly exhausting him.
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