There's been an enormous military presence in central London this week. Scores of army personnel have seen been rounding up civilians, searching their hand luggage and then corralling them behind makeshift barriers in the Royal Parks. Don't worry, it's all been in a good cause, and it's had absolutely nothing to do with 'the other' events of the week. A Living Museum opened in St James Park on Monday, organised by the Ministry of Defence as part of the 60th anniversary commemoration of the end of World War 2. It's a great idea - a series of 1940s exhibits with the focus on people, not on instruments of death - and a welcome opportunity for war veterans to remember and be remembered.
So, while the Queen was busy yesterday afternoon unveiling the new Women of World War II memorial in Whitehall, I went and queued up in the Mall for a trip back in time instead. I'll say one thing for the armed forces - they organise a damned efficient bag search. We then snaked into the main exhibition area through an unnecessary chicane of metal barriers - two easy minutes for me but walking hell for a few of the 80-year olds hobbling behind me. Never mind, there were ham and piccalilli sandwiches available in the veterans catering area at one end, although I hope they weren't original NAAFI rations.
By the entrance I saw an old soldier in full regimental uniform and medals standing chatting to a young modern recruit with a celtic tattoo poking out beneath his khaki sleeves. A significant number of attendees looked like they'd seen active service fifty or sixty years ago, but they'd also brought along their grandchildren to pass on unforgettable wartime experiences to a new generation. Look kids, there's a German tank, and listen, that's the sound of the All Clear, and hey, let's give you a rifle and show you how to handle it. Several re-enactments brought the past nostalgically back to life. I cowered as ack ack guns and searchlights spun round to fight off an air raid, I watched uniformed pilots scramble into the cockpit of a Spitfire and I listened to the old music hall songs that kept the nation entertained back on the Home Front.
It was good to see several displays devoted to the often forgotten war in the Far East where so many soldiers fought and perished. And every level of wartime contribution was remembered, from the vegetable growers of the Land Army to the essential work of the Medical Corps, and from an evacuee support network to the codebreakers at Bletchley Park. Rather more up to date, I discovered GCHQ recruiting at the back of one tent, and the MoD were running a deviously interactive scratchcard competition in another (yay, I won a free wallet and an illuminated pen). So many people were smiling and enjoying the day, it's a pity that such an impressive participatory event will almost certainly never happen again.
Today is National Commemoration Day, the culmination of this week's events. You can still get into the Living Museum until 1pm this afternoon (and if you can, do), and then there's a show on Horseguards and a parade and flypast on the Mall. The aircraft taking part in the flypast are due to gather over Victoria Park in East London later this afternoon, so I'll be down there to see the sky filled with airpower as it might have been back in the days of the Blitz that wreaked such terrible devastation on this part of the capital.
I must admit I'd originally been surprised and disappointed when I first heard that Britain's end-of-the-war commemoration would take place in early July - a meaningless date of no chronological significance halfway between VE Day and VJ Day. Alas the atrocities of recent days have given this week's celebrations an extra resonance. No matter what the generation, it appears that there are some people to whom you can never say thank you often enough.
There's been an enormous military presence in central London this week. Scores of army personnel have seen been rounding up civilians, searching their hand luggage and then corralling them behind makeshift barriers in the Royal Parks. Don't worry, it's all been in a good cause, and it's had absolutely nothing to do with 'the other' events of the week. A Living Museum opened in St James Park on Monday, organised by the Ministry of Defence as part of the 60th anniversary commemoration of the end of World War 2. It's a great idea - a series of 1940s exhibits with the focus on people, not on instruments of death - and a welcome opportunity for war veterans to remember and be remembered.
So, while the Queen was busy yesterday afternoon unveiling the new Women of World War II memorial in Whitehall, I went and queued up in the Mall for a trip back in time instead. I'll say one thing for the armed forces - they organise a damned efficient bag search. We then snaked into the main exhibition area through an unnecessary chicane of metal barriers - two easy minutes for me but walking hell for a few of the 80-year olds hobbling behind me. Never mind, there were ham and piccalilli sandwiches available in the veterans catering area at one end, although I hope they weren't original NAAFI rations.
By the entrance I saw an old soldier in full regimental uniform and medals standing chatting to a young modern recruit with a celtic tattoo poking out beneath his khaki sleeves. A significant number of attendees looked like they'd seen active service fifty or sixty years ago, but they'd also brought along their grandchildren to pass on unforgettable wartime experiences to a new generation. Look kids, there's a German tank, and listen, that's the sound of the All Clear, and hey, let's give you a rifle and show you how to handle it. Several re-enactments brought the past nostalgically back to life. I cowered as ack ack guns and searchlights spun round to fight off an air raid, I watched uniformed pilots scramble into the cockpit of a Spitfire and I listened to the old music hall songs that kept the nation entertained back on the Home Front.
It was good to see several displays devoted to the often forgotten war in the Far East where so many soldiers fought and perished. And every level of wartime contribution was remembered, from the vegetable growers of the Land Army to the essential work of the Medical Corps, and from an evacuee support network to the codebreakers at Bletchley Park. Rather more up to date, I discovered GCHQ recruiting at the back of one tent, and the MoD were running a deviously interactive scratchcard competition in another (yay, I won a free wallet and an illuminated pen). So many people were smiling and enjoying the day, it's a pity that such an impressive participatory event will almost certainly never happen again.
Today is National Commemoration Day, the culmination of this week's events. You can still get into the Living Museum until 1pm this afternoon (and if you can, do), and then there's a show on Horseguards and a parade and flypast on the Mall. The aircraft taking part in the flypast are due to gather over Victoria Park in East London later this afternoon, so I'll be down there to see the sky filled with airpower as it might have been back in the days of the Blitz that wreaked such terrible devastation on this part of the capital.
There's been an enormous military presence in central London this week. Scores of army personnel have seen been rounding up civilians, searching their hand luggage and then corralling them behind makeshift barriers in the Royal Parks. Don't worry, it's all been in a good cause, and it's had absolutely nothing to do with 'the other' events of the week. A 
So, while the Queen was busy yesterday afternoon 
By the entrance I saw an old soldier in full regimental uniform and medals standing chatting to a young modern recruit with a celtic tattoo poking out beneath his khaki sleeves. A significant number of attendees looked like they'd seen active service fifty or sixty years ago, but they'd also brought along their grandchildren to pass on unforgettable wartime experiences to a new generation. Look kids, there's a German tank, and listen, that's the sound of the All Clear, and hey, let's give you a rifle and show you how to handle it. Several re-enactments brought the past nostalgically back to life. I cowered as ack ack guns and searchlights spun round to fight off an air raid, I watched uniformed pilots scramble into the cockpit of a Spitfire and I listened to the old music hall songs that kept the nation entertained back on the 
It was good to see several displays devoted to the often forgotten war in the Far East where so many soldiers fought and perished. And every level of wartime contribution was remembered, from the vegetable growers of the Land Army to the essential work of the Medical Corps, and from an evacuee support network to the codebreakers at Bletchley Park. Rather more up to date, I discovered 
Today is 