aoba_reunion2005sat

ARBORFIELD - Friday 22^nd to Sunday 24^th July 2005 inclusive

The following report & photographs contributed by Trevor STUBBERFIELD (52A)

Perhaps this tale should be written backwards. You've read the ending, and several reactions already received indicate that now might be a good time to write the penultimate paragraph, "The acknowledgements."

It cannot be questioned that producing the annual Arborfield shindig is a massive undertaking. This year things were complicated by having it based in a new venue which brought a whole new set of problems to be solved. Luckily we have people in the association who are prepared to donate a lot of time and effort to ensure that we can meet with our friends each year and they receive our vote of thanks at the dinner. One name is constantly on everybody's lips and that is Uncle Bill Cleasby, a jeep of note. His shoulders bear the greatest load and therein lies the rub. This year Bill showed visible signs of the strain and tiredness and this is not good. Bill must re-read the Army Manual Of Delegation and share the burden amongst his team of willing helpers. Some of the details that weren't quite right during the weekend could have been taken in hand earlier with a bit of pre-planning by others. If we lose Bill's drive and enthusiasm for the reunion there would be a danger of it fading away and that would be a great shame. So it's a massive vote of thanks to Bill for all the work he does for us.

Here's hoping this has cleared up a few things, I might have got away with it without too much damage.

Saturday

Personal hygiene and interior economy seen to, it's time for the long hike to the Mess for breakfast. The rampant rabbits have been joined by a good number of moorhens, and fish are active in the lake. A thought comes to mind, I wonder if rabbit and moorhen pie could be considered a gourmet dish for a Mess dinner? What about wild fish pie, well wouldn't you be wild if you'd just been fished out of the lake?

Breakfast is buffet-style and all the traditional bits are there. Somewhere there must be a cookbook that details how to take perfectly good food and turn it into an Arborfield Breakfast. The fried bread triangles surpassed expectation, hard as iron and, if you could get a nail through them, could be used as shingles for roofing a shed. Baked beans in sauce ladled on would soon soften them, though I prefer the piquancy of the poached, tinned, skinned, Italian plum tomatoes in their own juice to do the job. We ate at small tables laid out with all the eating irons and even a teapot, which would be replenished on request to the catering staff. No visits necessary to a tea urn and listening for the dreaded banshee wail "Let it drip laddie, let it drip." At our age we really should appreciate the hotel style dining standards but there's a longing there for the old cookhouse hustle and bustle.

Breakfast over; it was a quick dash back to the billet to make the final dress code adjustments and then another dash back to the Mess for coffee. This was the highlight for me as members of the Elite 52A intake gathered; a chance to meet up with old friends. This year in attendance was John Todd, Bill Gibson, Terry Reddin, John Williams, Brian Paton, Trevor Trill, John Bodle, Chris Powell accompanied by Margarete, Eddie Hind and myself. We hardly had enough time because, half way through coffee, the RSM and Permanent Staff started their exhortations to muster those taking part in the Reunion March. There seems to be a link between the louder they shout, the slower everyone moves. They may be the bees knees amongst their own troops but dealing with a few hundred stroppy Old Boys nearly brought them to their knees. In fact they resorted to calling us gentlemen and would we please move towards the muster. That seemed to work. For those of us not marching, minibuses were laid on to take us to the memorial garden which stands on the site of the old guardroom, next to the gates. The garden looked sadly neglected and contained several discarded lager tins, obviously respect doesn't come easy to some people. Regretfully, this year we would not have the honour of passing through the gates, they remained firmly locked.

The program was in reverse order to previous practice, this year the parade would happen before the drumhead service, and would take place on the car park by the Beachley (YUK) Centre. With everybody waiting at the garden, the parade was seen by about twenty spectators. With the REME band, complete with pipers, playing during the review and the sight of the Old Boys on parade, an essential part of the weekend tradition was missed by most. Doubly a bad decision when the old school square stood empty and unused. There were many who commented on missing the parade.

The Parade

First a thought on the parade. It was “Form Up”, “March On”, Inspection, and “March Off”. Although the saluting base was on parade there was no March Past, “Eyes Righ”t, “Eyes Front”. It might just be that one of the foundation blocks of the AOBA Reunion Weekend has been re-laid on shifting sands.

The Parade Assembled for Inspection