An Annual Pilgrimage
Once a year, we make the journey from Norfolk to Derbyshire to have the van valeted and to visit the National Memorial Arboretum.
It’s not a long journey as far as pilgrimages go, but we’ve always valued it, both for practical and respectful reasons.
Our first stop is a visit to PP Protect, a small but substantial valeting company in Swadlincote, Derbyshire. Recently relocated to new premises, the company has always provided a friendly yet very thorough service at a reasonable price.
Our vehicle is now four years old and has been protected during that time by a ceramic coating applied by this company. The coating has withstood the extremes of weather across 20 European countries. It means that wherever we’ve been, a quick wash has returned the vehicle to a respectable state. However, once a year, we take the van back to Richard and his team for a full valet to ensure it remains in the best possible condition.
The night before starts with a stop at the Mill Wheel, a designated Motorhome Stopover. It’s not just a place with good food but also has Leffe on draught.
After a good night’s sleep and acknowledging the establishment's hospitality, we head down to PP Protect’s premises, about a 15-minute drive away.
Aboard a courtesy car, we set off to the National Memorial Arboretum, with the restaurant being our first stop for breakfast. And what a breakfast it is—all locally supplied by nearby butchers. The really good quality, low-carb options are our favourite.
The NMA is a vast place, and a map is needed to navigate it. The centrepiece is a memorial, which in itself is impressive, adorned with hundreds and hundreds of names. But it’s not until you realise that these names are all of those lost since the end of the Second World War that it truly hits home. I always take a moment here to remember that, on top of those lost, there are countless others with life-threatening mental and physical injuries.
PTSD is a subject close to my heart, little understood for the most part unless you have served, of course, in some uniformed service where you have come into contact with horror and evil. The two memorials that we never miss are the PTSD area and the Shot at Dawn Memorial. It always seems to me a lesson in how to accept the learning of the past without demeaning the process by scapegoating, simply accepting that we’ve learned and do things better now.
The PTSD memorial features an open hand, symbolising the need to take the hand that is held out. It potentially carries a dual message for both the person holding out the hand and the one accepting it, but maybe that’s too deep.
We then head to a lesser-known area of the NMA, where fewer people visit—the Police Memorial. It’s something of an afterthought, to be fair, understandable given that the primary objective was to build a National Memorial to the military heroes we all hold in high regard. The main Police Memorial is located at one extreme flank of the property, while on the other side is a long line of trees, each bearing the names of officers lost. You can’t serve without knowing the names on these trees. Looking at the names, you feel the loss, but also something else—you also feel lost, like a Ronin warrior, retired and masterless, having dedicated a lifetime to an unappreciated service. I have experienced this feeling many times, and I don’t suppose it will ever go away, in contrast to the day when, at 18 years of age, we enthusiastically put on uniform for the first time, intending to serve our community for a lifetime. We did our duty you learn to expect nothing and accept everything, we did our best .
