Trumpet

G has been to Saddleworth's Whit Friday walks and band contests before. But last year she was just a baby, and far too little to appreciate much of the music and pageantry (for what it's all about, you can read an article I wrote for The Guardian, yes that one, here).

This time was a bit different. At the age of almost 21 months, G was able to take in a lot more of what was going on around her, which particularly involved taking a close interest in the various doting older ladies she encountered during the day.

Also keeping G occupied, as shown in the photo taken during the morning Whit Friday service in our local village square, was a toy trumpet. Mrs J was late back from work on Thursday night because, she said, she simply had to stop by a well-known toy retailer and buy one. With brass bands coming and going all day, she correctly predicted that G would inevitably want to join in.

Given that some of the young children in the Dobcross Youth Band didn't look all that much older than G, it was easy to imagine that it might be her marching with them a few years from now. Much to my surprise, and even though G hasn't yet worked out that you only have to blow into the trumpet rather than put one end entirely in your mouth, the prospect of this filled me with pride.

I won't try to push her into it though. Well, maybe just a teeny bit.