Richard Baum

Remembrance Sunday is a solemn occasion. And rightly so. I genuinely think that it is the most important thing I do in the year as a Councillor, and I take the responsibilities of representing local people and keeping fresh the memory of military sacrifice extremely seriously.

Unfortunately I am also, much of the time, unable to partake in any kind of social activity without worrying that I am doing something unforgivably terrible and so out of kilter with how normal people act that on-lookers are quite simply gawping in horror at my ineptitude. Which is another emotion to have affected me today.

Last year at this time I managed to forget to swap my photo-chromatic glasses over for normal ones, so laid a wreath in what appeared to be sunglasses on a cold November morning, which was something that I can only assume appeared grossly disrespectful. I didn’t even realise it at the time, as the wearer of the glasses can’t really tell. It was only afterwards when people asked me if I had sight problems that I realised I had attended Remembrance Sunday dressed as a third-rate Stevie Wonder impersonator. I was genuinely upset. And I consigned the glasses to the bin.

This year again there were social hurdles a-plenty causing me no end of inner angst. First off there is the business of marching. Many years ago I was part of a youth group that attempted to march places on occasion, and I was often gently ridiculed by my father for having absolutely no skill in this area. I assumed that once old enough to leave the group I need never trouble myself with marching again. Unfortunately this was not correct, as this morning proved.

I have never been the most well coordinated of people. I tried to learn to swim once, but couldn’t make my arms and legs do what was required of them and so was reduced to wading across the shallow end and cancelling any future water-based short breaks. Marching presents me with the same difficulties, as the discipline of putting one arm forward at the same time as the opposite leg, in time to music, is simply not within my range of capabilities. I wonder if there is some kind of government grant available for people like me…?

Thankfully, the other Councillors seemed equally as inept. And the situation isn’t helped by having to carry a wreath. The cadets and veterans put us to shame though, as they march in perfect time next to the bedraggled shufflers like me.

The laying of the wreath itself also didn’t pass entirely without panic. I don’t like everyone looking at me at the same time. One of my recurring nightmares sees me at my own wedding, dissolving into fits of nervous giggles because everyone who matters to me in the whole world is staring at me simultaneously, in silence. Forget worrying about the suits or the venue or whether or not I’ll end up resenting the girl concerned with every sinew of my soul thirty years and a few shattered dreams and ungrateful kids later - the real nightmare of my future marriage is just that everyone’s looking at me.

And eating a £50 a head meal at my expense, of course.

But, as a public figure (and I appreciate that I am a “Scottish League Division 3″public figure, but a public figure just the same, on days like today) I will put up with people’s eyes on me if the situation calls. Which is fine, if I know what I’m doing. Which obviously, because I’m me, I don’t.

I was sixth to lay the wreath. Cllr Vic D’Albert went first on behalf of The Mayor. Then one was placed on behalf of the Legion. Then Ivan Lewis MP. Then Cllr Michelle Wiseman on behalf of the Conservative Party. The Cllr Andrew Garner on behalf of the people of Holyrood Ward. And then me.

Now bear in mind that, of all the things I do in the year, if there’s one I want to pass without a hitch, it’s this one. I don’t mind offending the odd opposition politician, but I am not offending old soldiers. I thought I’d just follow what the others did before me, and what could go wrong?

Unfortunately by the time five wreaths had been laid, room at the front of the memorial had gone, and so I had a dilemma. Do I stack mine on top, or wander round to the side of the memorial and put it there? I thought I’d do the latter, which of course extended the “all eyes on me” time by a few heart-thumping seconds as I moved round the memorial and back again. Even though the whole clambering around manoeuvre took no more than about three seconds, it felt longer than the entire year to date, and my brain played an echoing loop of people screaming “what is the idiot boy doing?!?!” in my head throughout.

After pausing and paying my respects at the front of the memorial, I had to retreat back to where I’d started. But of course I couldn’t because the way had to be clear for the people behind. The wreath-layers previous to me had all assembled to my right, but there was room to my left and, giddy with the fact that I had lain a wreath without tripping over my own shoelaces in front of half the town, I decided to break with convention and move to where nobody had moved before.

I thought my nod towards post-wreath symmetry would be appreciated, but unfortunately the wreath-layer after me went to stand with the others, leaving me still alone, now with a five-to-one differential. Was my side reserved for somebody? Had I unintentionally offended all of Prestwich by standing on the sacred side given over only to serving soldiers and those in mourning? Why was I alone? Why? Oh God…

Thankfully I was joined shortly afterwards by Sgt Campbell who had lain the Police wreath, and there the pair of us stood until the end, faintly unsure of ourselves, as others piled over onto the other side with such gusto that I thought the ground might sink.

My worries of course are simply light-hearted. Today was a wonderful coming together of our community, and even if every eye in Manchester was peering at me through a giant magnifying glass, the honour of representing St Mary’s on such an important day would be worth it. Our brave old soldiers, and those still serving today are the heroes of our nation and deserve to be commemorated by us all.

If it wasn’t for them, I’d have bigger worries than wearing sunglasses and tripping over my shoelaces. We owe them an incalculable debt. And I remember them on more than just today because they fought to save the country and all that it stands for. And it is my job in serving you to live up to that legacy.

Rick