It was all sorted. Maisy, the first foal we bred and who is now a 3 year old, was being transported back this morning from Caroline`s yard, where she has been broken in and backed and generally moved up a rung in her progress. She was to be turned out to relax in the field until the beginning of March. In turn - and this is where I want you to follow me closely, Jeeves -Daisy, the second foal we bred, was to be taken back to get her first taste of work with the horse-genius. We had to give Daisy some calming tablets half an hour before, as she is young and fizzy. The YD was going back to London to resume term after reading week but before then, would be on hand to help with the horse loading and unloading. My role is to lean on the gate, chewing a straw.

But poor Caroline did the sort of thing we all do in nightmares and en route filled up her horse box with Petrol instead of Diesel. She just about staggered here but then had to leave the box behind, to be sorted by trusty village-garage men tomorrow. As luck would have it, the YD would go past her gate on the way to London so could offer a lift and Daisy gets another day slouching about in the field, being vile to her newly-returned half-sister, pushing her out of the way of the food, refusing to play with her and generally behaving as minging little girls will.

Having waved the humans off at last, I went down to the village to get the papers and as I turned on the car radio, realised with relief that it was 11.45 and the Remembrance Day silence and local parade would be over.

Not that I do not wish to join in but I did my 2 minutes silence yesterday and I wasn`t dressed for the part.

Only, as I parked and got out I heard the unmistakeable strains of the bugle.

Now why Chipping Campden has its last post and 2 minutes silence at ten minutes to twelve I have absolutely no idea but it does. So I had to stand in the sun in silence. It is, of course, always incredibly moving and I always think of my great-Uncle Sidney, killed on his 19th birthday in the First World War, only son, only brother of 9 sisters.

It was as golden a morning as it so often is and the leaves fluttered down onto the assembly beside the War Memorial as they always do.  I`m glad I was there, not least because the new Simon Serrailler novel has a very significant and dramatic scene at the Lafferton Remembrance Day Parade, in which Simon plays a major role. First-hand research after all, though ours was considerably smaller than his Parade will be.

Not to mention that it was at ten minutes to twelve.

Rural Gloucestershire is another country. They do things differently there.