Passing by

THEY never knew our names, and we never knew theirs, but for an hour on a damp Tuesday evening in September, we stood by a darkening dual carriageway and waited together. The man in front of us said that the last time he had done a thing like this was for the Silver Jubilee when he was eleven. I remembered that event as well, and although I had never gone to it, I had been given a model of the Gold State Coach and its horses. I treasured it for a while, kept it safe under its perspex canopy, until it was later commandeered to support some toy soldiers in the recreation of a battle that could never happen.

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