It's not just mad dogs and Englishmen who go out in the midday sun. Here's an image witnessed in Portadown yesterday that advertising types in the brewing industry might wish to develop.
The blistering sun was beating down on the Armagh lambeg drummers as they paraded through Portadown town centre. Two young loyalists standing on the roadside whisked chilled cans of lager from their bags, cracked them open and reverently poured the golden liquid into pint plastic glasses.
One of the drummers, battering sparks from his cumbersome instrument, glanced over, wet his parched lips like Pavlov's dog, and betrayed a look of yearning - oh! such a look - that would melt anyone with true Protestant compassion. The loyalists raised their glasses to him and smiled - but such salutation never slaked an Orangeman's thirst.
This loyal son of Ulster had to march another couple of miles before his craving could be satisfied. But it's the Orangeman's purpose in life to endure. No Surrender. Not an Inch. And as they say at nearby Drumcree: Here we stand, we can do no other. The lambeg drummer gritted his teeth and, eyes front, determinedly marched on.
One watched the drummers and the other 10,000 Orangemen and band members who paraded through Portadown with a mixture of awe and sympathy. The sun was scorching but the Orange members wore their best suits and their bowlers with pride as they marched under the arch declaring "Fear God - Honour the King".
Some even brought brollies against the highly unlikely possibility of rain.
They solemnly carried their massive banners commemorating the Battle of the Boyne, the lifting of the Siege of Derry and other loyal days of glory. They bore their ceremonial swords and pikes with martial style. Unlike the Belfast parade, where the instrument is seldom played, a main feature of the Portadown march is the banging of the great lambeg drums.
That the drummers didn't collapse from dehydration and exhaustion is testament to their stamina. The young players were particularly impressive: they didn't even loosen their neckties as with controlled frenzy they whacked away with their drumsticks.
The parade was to a field on the Loughgall Road just outside Portadown, and not to Drumcree. Accordingly, during the march itself, security was low key although, as always, there was concern that hangers-on wired by the heat and drink could make their way to Drumcree later in the night.
But the atmosphere yesterday was cheerful and jovial, the tensions over the Garvaghy Road forgotten for a while by rank and file Orange brethren.
One relaxed RUC officer could even take time out to tell reporters that he had made a killing buying £1,000 of Telecom Eireann shares. And no, he had no intention of selling them.
