Day 20 Week 3

H rang last night and Lusty safely alongside in Liverpool. There's a huge fly-past happening over the Mersey today as part of the celebrations relating to the Fleet Air Arm being one hundred years old. It felt really nostalgic thinking of H being at the Pier Head, by the stunning three Graces of the Cunard Building, Custom's House and Liver Building.

We lived in Liverpool for eight years and it was such a happy time - C and R are actually Scousers as they were born in Fazakerley, overlooking Aintree racecourse and just next to the prison. We lived in an area called Blundellsands and our house was only a few hundred yards from the beach so I would always have the children on the shoreline, taking in the bracing air and playing sandcastles or 'porkenbury' as they called it (not a clue why, children just invent these things). Liverpool was not without its problems though and H, as a little boy, did once come up to me saying 'mummy what's this?'. He was holding a hyperdermic syringe at the time.

I shall never forget the day we were the only people on the beach and an aircraft kept sweeping up and down overhead. The kids waved at it as it made its passes and then a policeman came up to us because the beach was actually closed because of a contaminated chemical spill, and so we ended up in A & E being tested for toxicity. Happy days. Anyway am quite envious because H, C and R's father is actually up there for the event and I'm confined to barracks.

Sent my first parcel out to Afghanistan, there are size restrictions and it must not weigh more than 2kg but provided it's within those limits it's free. Cigarrettes, sweets, cup a soup, photos, local newspaper and magazine on the life of our county are hopefully on their way to the front line. Apparently the soldiers love reading their local newspaper from home. As I packed it up I suddenly had a huge urge to give the box a hug and a kiss as if by doing so I was touching C himself. Showing parcels affection is a worrying sign.

The day here today is spectacular - golden sunshine and crisp autumnal freshness. A friend just e-mailed me Keats' Ode to Autumn, forgot how wonderful it is - here's the first verse

SEASON of mists and mellow fruitfulness,
Close bosom-friend of the maturing sun;
Conspiring with him how to load and bless
With fruit the vines that round the thatch-eaves run;
To bend with apples the moss'd cottage-trees,
And fill all fruit with ripeness to the core;
To swell the gourd, and plump the hazel shells
With a sweet kernel; to set budding more,
And still more, later flowers for the bees,
Until they think warm days will never cease;
For Summer has o'erbrimm'd their clammy cells.

England really is beautiful.

H thinks the blog should be called 'Diary of a Sailor whose sister is a student and brother is in the Army'.

Speak soon. A soldier's Mum x