Saturday was one of the proudest days of my life.
We went to London to watch our son take part in the Trooping of the Colour, the Queens Official birthday parade.
He's a member of 3 Company, 1st Battalion Welsh Guards, currently based in London.
It was the Colour of the Coldstream Guards that was being 'trooped' but the majority of the soldiers, NCO's and officers on parade were from the Welsh Guards, with the battalion providing almost four hundred men.
I've watched the event since my youth in the seventies, but to actually be there and with Cory taking part, was a truly unforgettable experience.
He's only eighteen, our boy. Yet, already, he's been in the regular army for almost two and a half years, he's been on an operational tour to Bosnia, has done umpteen Royal guards at Windsor and in London, he's passed his driving test, boxed, skied and has made his mum and dad very proud.
We had great seats for the parade, the weather held(just!) and, whilst Cory's little sisters have become a tad blase about seeing him in his tunic and bearskin in the presence of Her Majesty, we thoroughly enjoyed the event.
He's a modest young chap too - while his mates hung around in their uniforms and medals to pose for photos, Cory was out of his as soon as he could, preferring to get into his comfy civvies and have a pint rather than be the centre of attention.
And what does a young guardsman do of an evening after his first 'Troop'?
Our boy took his little sisters to the pictures.
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