MY HUSBAND Keith and I have just landed back in Sedbergh after a trip to Ypres with the Town Band. Keith plays cornet with the band and each year we go on the annual outing. This time band members plus, ‘wags’ went to Ypres in Belgium. Or Wipers as the First World War Tommies called it. It was a wonderful trip. The band played in Ypres town square and we all paid our respects at the Menin Gate, where each evening, 365 days of every year Last Post is played in honour of all those who gave their lives in that dreadful conflict. Of course the trip was not without problems. To start with the outward bound ferry journey had some of us assuming a lighter shade of pale green before we docked. After which our six vehicle convoy, lead by my Keith, slowly made it’s way to Ypres with a few comfort breaks on the way. I thought it quite funny when we missed a turning or two and I was able to wave to the rest of the convoy as they followed us around the roundabout. I have accompanied Keith on a few of these annual band trips. The first of which was a visit to Slovenia. On this one Keith and I travelled with Carl the trombonist, overland towing the trailer full of instruments. Carl was a serious smoker in those days so we have to stop at every lamp post for him to top up his nicotine habit. He‘s packed up the fags now I‘m glad to say. The second time it was Italy where a good number of Italian ladies of a certain age, fell for piper Jim Dillon in his kilt. Another time at Dumfries, where the band cut its first CD, the piper was playing from the wrong music sheet and the drummer was thinking of going home while band master Alan Lewis got his braces in a twist and chucked his baton in the air. It stuck in the ceiling of the recording studio where it remains to this day.