Cultureshock

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Video transcript

My father went to Shotton Church Lads Brigade from when he was a young boy. He had band practice every Sunday and went to brigade camp each year. When he was older he kept in contact with members of the brigade. They would meet up and practice playing their instruments ready for Remembrance Sunday. This is when they marched through the streets of Shotton from the Community Centre to the Church playing their instruments. 

I remember going with him to the march once. I was probably about fourteen or fifteen at the time. I was planning on following the band as they marched. I stood with my Dad while I waited for the band to get ready. I heard one of the men saying they were a few players short. Another of the men that I'd met moments before had said not to worry, Bobby's daughter was here, she can play. I looked at my Dad, horror in my eyes as a bugle was thrust into my hand and I was ushered into the line. He told me not to worry, just to go along with it. I was terrified. I'd never been musical at all. I had no idea what to do. While I stood there, still trying to work out a way to escape, the drums started, then the bugles, then we were off. I struggled to keep in line, everyones stride much bigger than my own. I mimicked the people in front. Whenever they put their bugles to their mouths I followed suit, pursing my lips and puffing out my cheeks as if I were really playing, every now and again an accidental howl escaped.