Day 28 Week 4

Do you know why civil engineers are so called? Well the Romans invented the profession and they had two types of construction engineer 1) military and 2) civil. Although we are fascinated by the history and archaeology of Roman Britain, it's actually the tale and remains of a foreign army of occupation. St Alban's is one of my favourite places though, and I love walking through the grounds of the amphitheatre and up to the awesomely beautiful cathedral, the quiet contemplation and peace in the tomb of St Alban is definitely mystical. Went there with H, C and friends on my birthday and cherish the photos of such a happy day.

Wonder if in fifteen hundred year's time the people of Afghanistan will treasure NATO's legacy.

My father was a civil engineer and it is a huge sadness for me that he only saw H,C and R as infants - he died when they were so very young. He never even knew my brother would go on to have two gorgeous boys. The irony is he adored his grandchildren and was much more openly affectionate with them than he ever was with my brother and I, he was always rather formal with us as if he was papa from a by-gone age.

At the moment have got the most enormous craving to go back to my roots. I grew up in a mining village on the border between Nottinghamshire and Derbyshire and as a child, in a circle of five miles around, there were at least fifteen coal mines and an iron foundry. They've all gone now, grassed over or converted into retail parks - that's an oxymoron if ever there was one. I remember once in an English lesson looking out the classroom window at the aptly named slag-heap and watching transfixed as a bulldozer over turned and rolled all the way down the side. The area was quite bleak and hard and it still is unusual for people to move away or 'escape' as my mother would put it. Our village dated back to the Domesday Book but most of the ancient buildings were gone and the style of architecture was predominantly Victorian industrial red-brick. My brother left home for university when I was ten and so I guess most of my childhood was spent as an only child.

I used to regularly go up to see my mother with my children, and they used to love to go off to Lincoln and the east coast or over the border into Derbyshire and the Peak District - Matlock was one of their favourite places. My mother loved to see her grandchildren and also, like my father, she was much more openly warm with them and would always side with them if I had a gripe about something. H was for several years a very angry young man and that manifested itself in monstrous, challenging behaviour and my mother was one of the few people he would listen and respond positively to. And if ever I would complain about R she would simply turn to me and say 'you were a nightmare - she's just growing up'. C never seemed to present any problems or concerns as a child - made up for it now though!

My mother died two weeks after C went to Sandhurst and thankfully he was allowed special leave to attend her funeral. H and C took the readings during the solemn service and R was so plucky and read the Eulogy. Everyone gasped at her grave side as at the exact moment her coffin was lowered into the ground, a huge rainbow lit up the previously grey sky.

Still as my Aunt said to me it's not the same anymore.

Please God all safe and well.

Speak soon. A soldier's Mum x