Monday 30 November 2009

Day 58 Week 8

Dreadful storm again during the night. Garden rattling like a prisoner's chains. Spoke to fellow soldier's Mum about sudden attack of the serious glooms and she's finding the first Christmas away hard too - but she quite rightly made the point that how must they feel, especially the ones with young children and wives back home. So good to hear how she feels - the isolation is one of the hardest things to deal with.

It's my neighbour's funeral today and another neighbour is kindly taking me. It's going to be difficult.

A little bit of knowledge is a dangerous thing and I think I might have done something to my laptop to lose all my files, including this one, when I shut down. So if I disappear it's not something cataclysmic this time - just an idiot with a technical problem.

Hopefully everyone safe and well.

Speak soon - I hope. A soldier's Mum x

Sunday 29 November 2009

Day 57 Week 8

This is not good. Enveloped in gloom. Why have I suddenly nose-dived into wretchedness. Thought I was just about coping, but not at the moment. Just want to sob like a baby all the time. Is it the time of year I wonder. Christmas is the archetypal family festival and all around are images of happy smiling parents with their children and I just feel completely alone. Don't feel like me anymore, it's like I've been absorbed by an alien life and I just want my own back again.

Never wanted to be rich or have lots of material trappings, just only ever wanted the kids to be safe and well and happy and don't understand how it's come to this. This was definitely not in the script.

I must fight this and try to hold on to the positive.

The weather is yet again dreadful. Grey is certainly nature's wallpaper. Wonder what it's like in Afghanistan and then I just want to cry again. Churchill used to call it 'the black dog' and that's just what it feels like.

Every instinct of a parent is to protect their young and the sense of panic that accompanies your offspring being in permanent danger is excruciating. Overwhelming, unbearable, suffocating.

Must fight it. Don't like drowning emotionally like this.

Even my bloody phone appears to be conspiring, for some reason even though I access and exit it the reminder that I missed a call from C keeps returning to the screen. Would that be the last chance to speak to him for ages, or even God forbid, for ever.

H out of reach and obviously soaking wet. R languishing around looking fabulous and suddenly remembered it's her birthday this week. My how time flies.

Keep everyone safe please Lord.

Speak soon. A soldier's Mum x

Saturday 28 November 2009

Day 56 Week 7

Short blog because have been treated to run out with a dear friend as am very tearful today. Then to cap it off, dashed to the loo when I got home and when I came out I'd missed a call from C. I suppose there is the consolation that I can replay his message and hear his voice again.

He's received another parcel and things going OK (thank God - please to continue), sends his love and misses everyone and hopes we're all well and will try and call another time. Oh I miss him so.

Why is everything so complicated. Just want life to be simple and sweet again.

Not heard from H as he should be bobbing up and down on the River Dart and playing sea battles. R home and out at the cinema with friends. And I just want to curl up in a ball and make the world go away.

Hopefully everyone still safe and well.

Speak soon. A soldier's Mum x

Friday 27 November 2009

Day 55 Week 7

Very tearful day. Don't know why - completely out of the blue but really sad. Just want to sit in a corner, curled up, and sob. Got to shake this off.

R home and delightful. She's made me a cup of tea - and I didn't have to ask for one! She's so beautiful and a real consolation is that everyone says how polite and lovely her nature is - it would appear that she saves the alter ego for me alone - which is actually a good thing. Would rather that than the other way around.

Why do I just want to cry all the time. The weather is adorable and instead of having the usual positive influence it irritates me, because today I just want the grey skies and rain. Why do my moods sway so violently. Just want to be perverse I suppose.

When C was la little boy he was actually a bit odd.

As a babe in arms he couldn't stand loud noise - if I took him to a birthday party he'd howl when the assembled sang 'happy birthday', I'd have to leave the room and pace up and down cuddling him and reassuring him that everything was OK. Then he had the dark side of wanting to escape all the time. It was so scary because he was always very devious with his methodology, he'd lull you into a false sense of security and then in a flash he was gone. Can still see my father with his pince-nez spectacles on the end of his nose screwing the bolt onto C's bedroom door in Liverpool - yes I had to lock him in his room at night or he would have been off into the darkness.

And boy did he hate his sister when she was born. H was always such a loving child and when C arrived, I lay in my hospital bed and suddenly heard this little voice walking down the ward saying 'it's my brother you know, and I'm going to look after him'. And sure enough H plonked himself on the bed next to me and said 'give me my brother please'. But C was so different with R.

He first tried to kill her when she was a day old. We had a chitty-chitty-bang-bang antique car horn and the father had taken the new-born downstairs to give me some rest, and I suddenly heard the unmistakable shriek of terror from a very new infant. It transpired C had whacked her over the head with said antiquity, mercifully only inflicting injury.

Then he refused to speak for a month after her arrival. No one could make him utter a response to anything. We cuddled and hugged and begged and questioned and all we received in return was a stony stare and no sound. It was H who finally managed to make him communicate again. We had spoken to the doctor about the muteness and were told not to acknowledge it, often children retreat from speaking when they are traumatised by something, and we were told to act as normal. But H completely ignored that and continually questioned him, and after many days finally frantically tickled C, who threw his hands around and was furious with himself because he broke his vow of silence and shouted 'no H, stop it'.

The whole thing wasn't helped because he had tonsillitis when she was born, and the father had to return to work after a couple of days, so I literally didn't sleep for a week because I'd go from settling the baby down to dealing with an ill, silent C. Then, when R was a month old and sitting in her bouncy chair we thought he had finally grown to love her because he bent down to give her a kiss, but the little girl began to scream and shake because it wasn't as we thought, and he'd actually tried to bite her nose off.

Still, he loves her now and she loves him. Aren't children strange.

H in good form and preparing for his finals next week. My how time flies.

Hopefully everyone safe.

Speak soon. A soldier's Mum x

Thursday 26 November 2009

Day 54 Week 7

Actually got to speak to H. Extremely brief because he spilt shoe polish all over the floor but still good to hear his voice. He now sounds much younger than his younger brother, but as my fellow soldier's Mum said, they've probably been exposed to the most awful things and it makes them age so very quickly.

It's amazing how many ex-servicemen never talk about what they have experienced during active service. I saw Jeremy Clarkson on the telly once talking about his father-in-law and it was only after he died that they discovered he had been awarded the Victoria Cross, as never once had he mentioned it when he was alive. Apparently an awful lot of survivors feel an incredible sense of guilt over the comrades that never had the chance to return home.

Previously the only members of my family to fight in a war were my great uncles. One was my grandmother's brother and the other her half brother and it was during the First World War. Her elder full brother joined up and was soon promoted to sergeant sniper, and as such earned a reputation for notoriety and was mentioned as a hero in the local newspaper. Consequently her younger half brother went along to the recruiting station, denied his fourteen years and lied about his age, in order to be able to join the same regiment as his illustrious sibling. So it was that both brothers were to be members of the Sherwood Foresters fighting in France. Unfortunately, during the merciless carnage that ensued the inevitable happened and the younger boy took fright, was caught and charged with cowardice, then an offence punishable with death. But at the hearing clemency was shown because of his extreme youth, and so instead of being shot at dawn he was crucified on the wheel of a large field gun, which involved him being tied to the weapon whilst it was being fired in battle. The twist to the story is that because he had a different father from the sniper they did not share the same surname, so with all the awfulness that fate can sometimes bestow, the elder brother was put in charge of the punishment administered to the younger. Both men were broken by the incident.

Anyway thank goodness things have moved on and the Army no longer consists of lions led by donkeys.

H phoned back and he's sent me a picture of him as a guard at his friend's wedding - very posh indeed. R hopefully enjoying uni and safe.

Please keep everyone safe Lord.

Speak soon. A soldier's Mum x

Wednesday 25 November 2009

Day 53 Week 7

Sunshine, glorious sunshine. Makes such a difference to the world. Am going to go and sit outside and take in some of that vitamin D and hope it works at lifting the spirits.

Heard from my friend and fellow soldier's Mum and she summed the whole thing up when she said she just feels so weird all the time. It's like you do normal one minute and then suddenly you're back in the semi-detached world of not belonging. It can hit you at any time, making a cup of tea, having a bath, emptying the recycling and then crash - you're no longer in your own life but removed into misery. And all this when everything's OK, heaven only knows how the kith and kin of the lost or injured handle it all.

Saw the beautiful grieving widow of the bomb disposal sergeant on the News last night. She was speaking at his funeral and she did so with such grace and dignity. It was his sixty-fifth device and it should have been his last, in the sense that he was scheduled to have returned home the next day alive and not to be 'repatriated'. She made the plea that we support these 'warriors' and not judge them because they did not seek the cause, they merely follow our instructions unfailingly and without question. Although I often hear people challenge the justification of the Afghanistan campaign, I have not heard one word of condemnation for those fighting it - they are definitely 'our' boys and girls and never 'them'. As she so clearly made the point, support from home really does make all the difference.

Convalescence is a strange experience. Everything stops. The merry-go-round of routine is shunted into a corner and small things become gigantic tasks. I have three medical appointments over the coming three days and anyone would think I had to sail single-handedly around the world for all the stress they're causing. The less you do, the less you want to do. I remember my poor mother towards the end of her life, and she would become so distressed over the slightest inconsequential incident, and I'd be so fed up with her. But obviously it was because her razor blade mind couldn't handle the fact that she was really existing and not living. Minutia becomes the gargantuan.

The Queen has issued a new medal for anyone killed in action since the Second World War and it's called the Elizabeth Cross. I'm sure it must provide great comfort and pride for those receiving it but I just hope and pray I never get to see one.

Paid off this month's outstanding accounts for C - still can't be cross with him though.

H in good form and hoping he doesn't blow things at the last hurdle. Unfortunately he seems to have inherited my tendency towards seeing disaster where hopefully there is none. R enjoying uni and hopefully fine. And I'm off into the front garden with my folding chair and leg stuck in the air.

Lots of love and prayers.

Speak soon. A soldier's Mum x

Tuesday 24 November 2009

Day 52 Week 7

My Grandmother always used to say that she hated the still, dark days before Christmas. It's as if the icy grip of darkness takes hold of time and shuts out as much light as it possibly can. Not only are the days meagrely short but the clouds have provided a deep roof to keep out any chance of a glimpse of the sun.

Been musing over the relationship between the weather and social interaction. When the day belongs to a bright fresh sunny Spring, then thoughts run to walking through bluebell woods, or along the river and through the water meadows covered in delicate flora dancing in the gentle breeze. The background music would be birdsong, including the menacing cuckoo, and the bleating of new born lambs. Spring is hopeful.

Given the same time in Autumn and again it would be walking, but this time through the woods of gold and ochre with the smell of distant smoke from bonfires and being wrapped up because although the sun shines a spectacularly clear light, the wind can bite and the cheeks are bright red. The song of autumn is the cracking of wood and leaves underfoot and the birds gathering for their migration south. Autumn is retiring.

Summer and it's a picnic, again out in the country or by the river. And it's lying on a blanket or the warm dry grass with friends or a loved one, drinking wine and eating delicious goodies and then lying back in the warm air to watch the clouds drift overhead and perhaps fall asleep. Summer's smell is newly mown grass and her tune is definitely the bumble bee and trickling water. That said, Summer can also be the beach of course, with the sea gently tumbling up and down on the shingle or sand, and the wind blowing on shore and children laughing in the distance with the gulls cawing overhead. Summer is bewitching.

But here we are at the end of autumn and on the cusp of winter. Not the glistening, sparkling winter of freshly fallen snow but the dirty drab winter of scurrying through the cold and austere greyness. Winter is definitely the end of the year.

H texted and all going very well. R back at uni and when I spoke to my neighbour noise and anti-social behaviour not mentioned so maybe she was good after all.

Hope everyone and their loved ones safe and well. Fellow soldier's Mum holding on too.

Lots of love and prayers.

Speak soon. A soldier's Mum x

Monday 23 November 2009

Day 51 Week 7

Short blog today because am absolutely wrung out, as Postman Pat would say. C used to love that and Fireman Sam and Thomas the Tank Engine. He had the full collection of little trains and used to play at Thomas being stuck in the mud in the back garden at Liverpool. That said his real favourite was Button Moon, he'd go all misty eyed and trance like at the opening song 'We're off to Button Moon, follow Mr Spooooooon, Button Moooooooon, Button Mooooooon ..'

Can't stop wondering why C had to return to base camp and read from the Bible to his men. Something must have happened. We'll only find out via the news if it's death, if it's injury no matter how many involved, it will remain a private affair. That's what this whole thing is for the families, fear and speculation. Saw a motivational speaker once who informed the audience that FEAR was merely an acronym for False Evidence Appearing Real, can only surmise he was either devoid of feelings or had been lucky enough to have never experienced terror.

H sent a lovely text home full of love and see you soon. R assured me she just had a few friends around on Saturday evening for a few quiet drinks. Doesn't explain all the empty bottles or box of cider in the recycling though.

Checked the news and nothing thank goodness.

Speak Soon. A soldier's Mum x

Sunday 22 November 2009

Day 50 Week 7

Felt much more positive as a result of my brief sojourn and actually felt rested and that my leg might actually be improved, and then my friend dropped me back home and obvious R has been 'entertaining' friends during my absence. After resting and being spoilt rigid it was back to reality with empty vodka bottles and used glasses everywhere and kitchen drawer broken. Am really hacked off because if she did have friends round they will probably have been noisy and that shows the most enormous disrespect for my grieving neighbour. That will teach me to switch off and relax.

Heard from H. He's gone to the cinema and is really excited about finishing his course and being commissioned an officer in the Royal Navy. One in the Army and another in the Navy - of course the standing joke is 'where's the Air Force connection?'. But then that's a completely different story.

Sat down on the sofa, after chucking away the mess, with my leg on top of a pile of cushions looking like an elderly Tiller girl and then my phone rang. Against all odds it was C. He sounded very sober and here's the conversation.

C: Hello

Me: Darling - so good to speak to you. How are you?

C: Yeh - am OK - it's a bit shit but it's OK

Me: What do you mean it's a bit shit (silence) oh realise you probably can't say

C: Well it's not like it's all shit, it's OK sometimes but hard at other times, up and down really

Me: (Changing subject) So you're back at camp - so good to hear from you - didn't think we were going to speak for ages

C: Yeh we had to pop back unexpectedly but we're off out again tomorrow, but we'll have a phone with us this time so should be able to ring you from there too

Me: Oh that's much better. Did you get the parcels?

C: Yeh the last one was R's album, it was awesome

[At C's leaving party/premature 21st I had given him a small Bible to keep with him to read if he felt worried or frightened and he had laughed and said 'typical you']

Me: So is there anything else I can send you?

[C ignored this question and then said]

C: Got to use the Bible you gave me the other day

Me: [Startled] Did you darling

C: Yeh [Pause] Something happened [Another pause] And I had to say something appropriate to my Platoon at a very difficult moment, and was actually able to use it to read to them

Me [Aware that if C had turned to the Bible then something significant must have happened] Oh darling was that formally or informally

C: It was informal and just us, but I had to say the right thing to the men, so good you gave me the Bible

I managed to stifle back the tears because we soldier's Mums must never let them worry about us, when they have got so much else, potentially many dreadful things to deal with.

Lots of love and prayers for those in danger.

Speak soon. A soldier's Mum x

Saturday 21 November 2009

Day 49 Week 6

My dear friends have kidnapped me for a night at another friend's house. They thought I needed cheering up and so have been treated like a queen and I have had one of the most enjoyable afternoons in weeks.

Just been pondering the importance of friendship and quite honestly don't think I could have survived the last fourteen years without destiny having thrown the most supportive group of people into my path. They literally are a protective shield against loneliness and the fear that isolation can instil.

So, through torrential rain we have talked, through howling gales we have laughed and now in the darkness we are going to have something to eat and watch Strictly Come Dancing. Had almost forgotten what fun is and for the first time in ages don't feel like 'woman on the verge of a nervous breakdown'.

More people have heard from C and the message from the front is that he is enjoying the whole thing enormously. Please God that continues. Saw in the newspaper that the hundredth soldier to be 'repatriated' is now home. And a poor policeman was swept into the swollen river when a bridge collapsed in Cumbria, and was killed.

Not heard from H and R glad I'm not at home tonight and not missing me. So business as usual then.

Had some spiritual healing yesterday evening - again thanks to a dear friend and it was so calming and peaceful. To sit in silence in a church bathed in candlelight was angelic.

Thank you everyone.

Speak soon. A soldier's Mum x

Friday 20 November 2009

Day 48 Week 6

Another bloody gale. As if sleep wasn't hard enough to obtain without nature's orchestra throwing a hurricane outside my bedroom window. What's causing all these storms - every night for a week now the wind has been raging. Why are those isobars in the Atlantic conspiring to cause such havoc. And then factor in a body thermostat so out of kilter (stress, age, drugs - prescribed of course) that I'm freezing when everyone else is roasting and burning up when the world shivers.

So for a week the nights have consisted of a cacophony of violent sound accompanied by me and the duvet playing the hokeycokey - you put your left arm in, your left arm out ..... your left foot in, your left foot out .....

Should be thankful we don't live in Cockermouth though - two hundred rescued from severe flooding overnight. Poor things. I remember the night our village flooded, several years ago now, and it was absolutely terrifying. To see roads turned into rivers within a few minutes, and people living in the area frantically trying to plug gaps in doorways and windows with sandbags, and then admit defeat and try to salvage anything they could. Nature can be unpredictable and cruel sometimes.

Bad day. Just want to cry. Know my neighbour had been ill for sometime but her passing has been a trigger for outpouring of pent up grief. The weather is an appropriate mirror for my emotions, swirling around all over the place picking up debris and dumping it somewhere else.

Desperately pray C is OK. Lots of love to him.

The moon last night was a beautiful sliver of pale pink silk so dutifully grabbed silver coin and made my new lunar wish. Hope it proves to be lucky and comes true.

Not heard from H and R on her way home later. Lots of love to them.

Please keep my children safe Lord.

Speak soon. A soldier's Mum x

Thursday 19 November 2009

Day 47 Week 6

Whilst never claiming to be the mathematical genius my father was (scholarship to study at Heidelberg for a year, calculus for pleasure) I've always considered myself to be relatively numerate. So it was with some surprise to realise, when I glanced at the blog chronology, I had abandoned the Gregorian calendar and shot through the weeks at my own amazing pace. In a time travel sense of the word I had accelerated to week 10. Must be trying to make the days pass more quickly. Either that or a Freudian arithmetic slip. Or maybe both.

A dear friend has arranged for me to have some spiritual healing this weekend - think I need it.

The president of Afghanistan has been sworn in and has vowed to tackle corruption and hopes to take charge of internal security within the next five years. Obama 'close' to making a decision about reinforcements - that worries me a lot. I'm sure just as it has always been and will continue to be, the general public are the last to know anything, and one hates to use the word 'dithering', but there is definitely something holding up the decision making process.

Friends have received letters from C. Apparently the deployment is amazing and his job is awesome. He loves Afghanistan - it is a beautiful country.

H fine and hopefully R fine too.

Just had a phone call from my distraught neighbour's husband and she has just passed away. Such a kind gentle lady who will be very missed. PE RIP.

Speak soon. A soldier's Mum x

Wednesday 18 November 2009

Day 46 Week 10

Heard on the radio yesterday that Earth is entering the Leonid Meteor belt so opened my kitchen door at a quarter to eight last night and bang on cue the most glittering shooting star swept across the cloudless sky. It's supposed to be a sign of good luck and so made my wish accordingly.

Then, treat of treats, Peter Andre's Next Chapter was on the TV. The guy is such a delight -how can he be so nice. Pete now wants to 'give something back to the fans' because he thinks he's been so blessed by them and fortune. Who could fail to be moved by the sight of Pete with his oldest admirer, a sprightly lady of a hundred and four. And the way he is with those kids. Decided I want a Peter Andre next time around.

My track record with the opposite sex is quite legendary. When I became single again I had a few dates with some really quite nice guys but cleverly swept them aside for yet another plonker. He had the inevitable troubled background and so I was driven to think that fate had merged our paths and that we two damaged birds would learn to fly again together. The whole sorry affair went on for seven years (as the joke goes only six years, eleven months, three weeks and six days too many), before I finally realised it's healthier to be on your own than locked into a septic struggle for control over another person. I never lived with him or anything like that - he was always simply a 'boyfriend' and as such kept apart from home and family - but the one thing I really must thank him for is he helped me develop emotional independence. It's quite a big step to think that solitude is preferable to having anyone. And to be honest maybe if I had found someone only half suitable then I would have settled on the compromise candidate and that would have been another disaster. Que sera sera.

What with everything going on at the moment feel that autonomony is being jeopardised for the first time in a long time. Don't like being afraid all the time.

Had another hilarious e-mail from my birding friend. She was explaining the jargon of the sport, as in the bird community there really is a lingo of its own. You don't 'see' a creature, you 'have' it. Hence the infamous shout of 'I've just had a shag on the rocks and it made my day' - all perfectly clean and true. Her photographs are stunning and apparently the delicate little creatures who dart about the small tree near my house, singing the most enchanting song are actually vicious psychopaths called 'blue tits'.

Not heard from H who should be well and truly settled back in Dartmouth if all has gone to plan. Spoke to R and she's fine - really enjoying uni. Not heard anything about my dear neighbour so she must be holding on.

C never out of my thoughts for a moment.

Please God all safe and well

Speak soon. A soldier's Mum x

Tuesday 17 November 2009

Day 45 Week 10

Two more killed. God Bless them. One of them didn't even have to be there but he volunteered. In real life he was a software engineer but his ambition was to be an officer in the army so he offered to go to the war with the TA (Territorial Army - half soldier half civilian). The other was killed on Sunday and hasn't been named yet.

See the politicians are talking about 'exit strategies', think they might be panicking. This is the worst year for the forces since the Falklands. KBO as Churchill would say.

Came downstairs to find a letter from C for R. Put it on the piano for her to see when she's next home. H, C and R have a really strong bond of attachment - not to say they can't have fierce disagreements and squabbles - but the love that runs between them is enormous. Often wonder if that's because of their childhood in that the one thing they new would always be there was each other. Please God that will always be the case.

Sent Christmas parcels out. One from me and one from each of the siblings. Chocolates, newspapers, magazines, lollipops (I know but he loves them), cigarettes, cigars, batteries and battery charger all of to a BFPO. Tears and kisses to accompany of course. Remember years ago reading about the First World War and the Christmas Armistice, and games of football, and thinking how horrid to be in such dreadful conditions on such a special day.

Short blog today because feeling sad. My dear friend and next door neighbour extremely poorly, she's such a lovely lady and has been so kind to me over the years.

Speak soon. A soldier's Mum x

Monday 16 November 2009

Day 44 Week 10

The bonuses weren't for forty million - they were for forty-seven million. Wonder how much equipment could be bought for forty-seven million pounds. Don't know what to say really.

But the good news is the army is to have increased numbers of support helicopters by the end of the year - six in total. Am I missing something here. Six more helicopters that carry twenty people each that equals one hundred and twenty personnel maximum airborne at any given time. There are nine thousand troops out there, possibly to be increased by another five hundred. Not that they are the only flying machines in Afghanistan but the general consensus is we are woefully ill equipped and somehow this smacks of lip service. The mood is definitely shifting from passive acceptance to anger.

The Chaos Theory has it that a butterfly's wings fluttering in the Amazon can have the cumulative knock on effect of causing a hurricane on the other side of the world, and can't help but think the quiet dignity of the people of Wooton Basset has been a metaphorical Lepidoptera in the Cotswolds.

Was talking to the nurse about how stroppy R was being - like she'd reverted back to the dark days of early adolescence and the wise lady said to me 'maybe she's not coping with C as well as she would like and we always take things out on our nearest and dearest'. It was like being struck by a lorry. Because R was full of such bravado and breezy 'stop worrying - everything will be fine' I hadn't looked beyond the veneer to consider that maybe it was all a front, and she was actually frightened as hell. For all of the serving there must be a total of thousands of distraught family and friends left behind.

Just looked at the Mod website and today is the last day for guaranteed Christmas postal deliveries for Afghanistan so am getting something off to him straightaway.

R back to uni. Not heard from H.

Speak soon. A soldier's Mum x

Sunday 15 November 2009

Day 43 Week 9

To sleep perchance to dream. Sleep, blissful sleep. Went to bed at ten thirty and didn't wake up until five thirty - a whole seven hours later. Then, wonder of wonders, had a glass of milk and went back to sleep until eight thirty. Cannot describe what it feels like to have actually achieved unconsciousness for such a long period of time.

To see golden sunshine after such dreadful weather is such a gift, it makes me want to smile.

This is all most peculiar because I don't know if it's because of the sleeping or because of the sunshine or because of whatever but have woken up with a tangible sense of inner calm. Am fully aware after C's phone call yesterday that he is almost certainly in a danger zone and provided he survives will not be able to speak to him for a very long time, but ironically I feel more like usual-me than I have done since he was deployed. It's as if our conversation emphasised just exactly to what extent the whole matter is out of my hands and I have to accept each moment for what it is, and the fact that I can actually do nothing to change anything hit well and truly home. Over to you Lord.

Read in the paper that the brave soldier who diffused the Glasgow Airport bomb in the burning vehicle has disarmed over seventy devices in Sangin so far, thirty of those whilst under gunfire. How on earth do they do it. Not a clue. But thank goodness they do. And all for thirty thousand pounds a year.

A friend told me that apparently some civil servants in the MoD have awarded themselves forty million pounds in bonuses - surely that's not the case.

H has now left Lusty and back to Dartmouth. R plus friends drove through the horrendous storm to attend a party at the uni in Portsmouth.

So enjoyable to have some time with my friends and swap frustrations and fears. The wonderful thing is no matter how fed up we are at the beginning, it's never long before we see the ridiculousness of it all and replace the moaning with laughter. Maybe that's what's brought about the change in attitude - either that or maybe I have finally flipped.

Lots of prayers for loved ones at home and abroad.

Speak soon. A soldier's Mum x

Friday 13 November 2009

Day 42 Week 8


Part 1

Insomnia. Brain numbing insomnia. Not the kind of drifting in and out of sleep and waking up every half hour or so, but the unforgiving 'I'm so exhausted yet my mind will not to let go of consciousness and my eyes won't stay still' variety. There is the most dreadful storm raging outside. The wind is banging everything around the garden and the rain is like machine gun fire. Hope everyone safe and well.

So there really is water on the moon - who'd have thought it. Actually come to think of it that was something else my brother had told me during the stroll we took a couple of weeks ago.

Saw in the paper that there have been over eighteen hundred IEDs to be dealt with around Sangin in the last year alone, tragically causing the death of many including several bomb disposal experts. These mechanical creatures are not choosey and they kill anyone, young, old, serving or civilian. The Brits have a reputation for being world leaders in the distinguished craft of explosive diffusion, and apparently far and away the worst to deal with are the amateurish bespoke appliances so favoured by the insurgency. In this perverse case homemade is a vastly superior item to the produce of manufacture - just like cooking I suppose.

Heard from H and he's sending me a surprise - that's exciting. R home and boyfriend stayed last night,. He actually got up a few minutes ago as he's working in Nottingham today, and that's why I finally admitted defeat, abandoned the mattress and came down stairs for a very early cuppa cha.

Tea delicious as ever and so now am going to see if I can finally get some shut-eye.

Part 2

Finally managed some sleep and was then woken with a jolt at quarter to eight as a massive thunder clap reverberated across the sky and actually shook my bed.

Just had the biggest bluey with R. Apparently a major part of being independent means that you have no regard for anyone else but you help yourself to vast amounts of food and provisions that the another person has provided. She never texts safe arrivals - 'will you, like, stop being so pathetic and, like, possessive' - this in response to late night motorway journeys in an old clapped out car. She never tells me whether she's coming home or not - 'I haven't decided yet and anyway that's, like, none of your business' - the only way I knew she was home yesterday was because when I returned from the hospital the kitchen was trashed and there were dirty dishes everywhere. And perish the thought she would ever ask me how I was, or if I'd like a cup of tea - she will actually make herself something and just walk past as if I didn't exist. The cliche really is true that the only time she speaks nicely is when something is wanted. God I miss my Mum.

Just had a call from C. Frantic panic as phone low on charge and so was shaking as I tried to feverishly connect the charger and not do something to lose the call. He's been busy and can't say what he's actually been doing but it was hectic. They're moving to another base and it will definitely be interesting. It's been chaos out there. People in our village want to send random parcels out to Afghanistan under the free postage scheme, to be distributed to soldier's who may not have people back home, and he said they can be sent to him and he'll hand them out. Said because of movement to new place will not be able to contact home for a long time, but would I continue to send stuff out to him at the old address. Shouted R to the phone but then call cut off.

Old friend rang up and is taking me out for a run into the country later and really need to see beautiful open space right now.

Speak soon. A soldier's Mum x

Day 41 Week 7

Amnesty International has for many years been my chosen charity, and as I lie on my sofa with my laptop on my knees with an incredibly sore leg, and the housing association gardener with his leaf blower outside (who for some reason has been clearing the very small alley way at the side of my house for the last hour and a half), I am stunned by what a tortuous combination pain, lack of sleep and noise can be. No wonder those deadly tools have been employed by the unscrupulous over the centuries as a means of garnering control. Then I wonder what turns a normal decent person into a torturer in the first place and just hope am never given the answer to that one.

Love the way the terminology of warfare has been sanitised. 'Friendly fire' means unintentionally killed by someone on your own side. 'Extraordinary rendition' means carting people around the world from one dodgy country to another in order to avoid accepted conventions and the rule of law. 'Collateral damage' means accidently killing innocent non-combatants instead of the intended enemy target. And IED is the acronym for a deadly hidden homemade bomb - sounds more like a contraceptive device. Not feeling very happy today - poor night's sleep again.

The short lived euphoria at having heard C speak has now been replaced by more familiar emotions. Miss him achingly. Worry frantically. Don't like being me today.

Still am being taken to see my consultant this afternoon and it's always nice to get out and about. It is true that the days do seem to have a culture and tone of their own and today is afterall Friday the thirteenth, so may be it's just predisposed superstition creeping in - hope that mood will change as the day progresses.

Miss H enormously too - he passed his vivat well. Miss R and wonder if she's coming home tonight.

See that the Prime Minister says that others in NATO must share the burden in Afghanistan. To that end 'people' are being sent to lobby the forty three member states of the alliance for reinforcements, this being done on the basis of what differentiates this mission from previous armies of occupation is that we are working 'with' and not 'against'. He did admit that the seriously entrenched culture of corruption from the bottom to the very top was proving to be an obstacle to progress though. War is an expensive business and can't help pondering who is actually funding the Talliban, the money must be coming from somewhere so surely in these days of computerised banking the paymasters could be tracked and stopped. Or am I being ridiculously naive. Only hope this is all really worth it and wonder how history will judge the campaign.

Please God all stay safe and well.

Definitely a bit blue.

Speak soon. A soldier's Mum x

Thursday 12 November 2009

Day 40 Week 7

Forty days and forty nights - a symbolic period of suffering. But in my case although it has been painful we have survived so far and that is all anyone can ask for. Must remain upbeat.

Heard from C. Did not get to actually speak to him as the call went directly to my voicemail - which has sadly happened before so can only assume there must be difficulties with the satellite link sometimes. Was doing my walk when my phone rang and thought nothing when '121' was shown on the screen, pressed accept and then heard 'Hi Mum, it's C, hope all's well with you re the op, sorry haven't been in touch for a while, been out and about and really busy, thank you for all the Chocolate (he laughs), I'll try and ring again, take care, love you,' (long beep). Caught my breath and then had to work really hard at not producing hysterical laughter accompanied with sobbing tears in the street. For the first time in a long time, just for a split second I knew he was safe.

Inevitably brain scrambling followed because did not fully understand the implications of 'been out and about and really busy' - sometimes you're better off not knowing.

Ironically I then looked on the on the BBC website and the Officer commanding 3 Rifles Battlegroup is Major Richard Streatfeild, and he's writing a diary covering the six months of deployment. I read it and am now more aware of what 'out and about' actually means. It's a bit overwhelming - but here's an extract

'And that is what Bastion is like. Arid, hot and dusty. The smell of a port-a-loo in the midday sun and the taste of the best food anywhere I have been on operations .....

'All around the mechanics of the vast operation to get the units changed over continues. The helicopter noise is continuous, providing the drumbeat of the operation .....

'I had a good chat with a local farmer, through an interpreter ..... He told me how the insurgents impose a curfew in the village so they can lay IEDs but he did not know where they were. On the way back we found out ..... Being close to an IED (Improvised Explosive Device) explosion has nothing to recommend it. A member of 2 Rifles lies very seriously ill in Selly Oak Hospital as a result .....

'My greatest desire in this regard has crystallised round the hope that I will be able to take my son to the first day of an Ashes Test at Lord's. My greatest fear being that I will not be there to go with him .........

'I know from friends and colleagues that the worst moments of their professional lives have been in the moments of grief following the death of a soldier for whom they feel totally responsible.'

The Major then finished on the optimistic note that some battalions have returned home unscathed and that maybe 3 Rifles will be so blessed. Sadly since that was written it has turned out to not be the case.

Heard from H - he rang at two thirty in the morning - the Royal Navy never sleeps. He's passed the vivat and leaves the ship in two days. Not heard from R - hope all's well with her and also that all fellow soldier's Mums' babies are safe.

Speak Soon. A soldier's Mum x

Wednesday 11 November 2009

Day 39 Week 7

Still not heard from C.

It was revealed yesterday that the poor soul from my son's Company to be killed last week was the victim of a blast whilst he was clearing an area of explosives. The announcement, as always, was accompanied by the photograph of a beautiful young person with a cheery face, smiling and full of life - but that was then and now he is no more. My friend told me that when her son was deployed, after he had left the house she walked into the sitting room and he'd written 'not this one' on a picture she had of him in his combats. They were blessed and he did come home. As a Christian I hold on to the belief that the Lord will protect us and that the soul is the important part which will always remain after a body has been taken, but feel my faith is being tested in the extreme.

Can only deduce my son must also be clearing areas of explosives.

Was transfixed by the images from Wooton Bassett and the good people showing their respect. There definitely appears to be a zeitgeist of sympathy and horror - the youngest to return yesterday was eighteen - although a soldier he was really a child. Then the Prime Minister caused offence to a grieving mother.

The whole thing is an obscenity.

At C's passing out parade the General giving the address did inform us that there really is a danger out there, and that the general public was fortunately unaware of what is actually the full extent of the situation. He reinforced the importance of supporting the campaign in Afghanistan and encouraged us to believe in the legitimacy of it all. He reassured us it was an authentic cause, well worth fighting for and I suppose reminded us that in this case, ignorance was bliss. For some reason H, C and I were ushered on the high altar during the church service to be seated directly opposite the General, and I watched him pray and he seemed to be such a genuine man and so full of faith.

Must believe it's all worthwhile.

Our village always lets a cannon off at eleven o'clock on the 11th November and then another two minutes later. This morning it juddered through my body.

Heard from H - as always extremely self critical and felt he did not do his best during the vivat. In the marvellous spirit of detent that now prevails I will liaise with his father over forthcoming events. Not heard from R but hope she's OK. Touched base with fellow soldier's Mum and all well with her thank goodness - we agreed that no fingernails and white hair are inevitable. It's grey and raining and am waiting for the nurse and my foot is very swollen - still so much to be grateful for.

Please God all safe and well.

Speak soon. A soldier's Mum x

Tuesday 10 November 2009

Day 38 Week 7

Had the weirdest dream last night. Dreamt I was back married to the children's father and was watching TV with him and then the time came to end the day and retire upstairs for the inevitable deed and I had the most enormous sense of panic and my legs wouldn't move and I tried to scream and nothing came out.

It wasn't always like that. When my marriage imploded I never for once ever imagined I would be apathetic about my then husband. I was consumed with anger and righteous indignation that he could renege on our deal to raise three children together, and swap parenthood for step-parenthood. But the truth is we should never have married in the first place. I had it in my mind that I had waited a respectable three years from broken heart to altar steps but apparently it was more like a few months. We were friends and not lovers and he had the most enormously troubled background, and I felt so sorry for him and thought he was so vulnerable. Although I did grow to love him in a sisterly sort of a way, I'm really glad he's so lucky to have found the real thing this time round. He and his current wife are obviously so much in love and they now have a pretty daughter to share of their own, but I do find it sad that he missed out on so much of his first three kid's childhood.

Atonement.

It's so much healthier for children when the adults behave like grown ups and it removes so much of the angst caused by division of loyalties. Everything's absolutely fine now and when I'd finished chatting to him at C's leaving do it came as a such a shock to me when the mother of one of C's friends said 'I really admire you doing that, C told me he hadn't spoken to his father for two years when we met him. I'd have chopped his balls off and fed them to the next door's cat' (she's a Yorkshire lady). I'd completely forgotten the dark ages - it really is true what they tell you at the time and indifference is far and away the best condition.. Still all's well that ends well and everyone gets on fine.

Speaking of ending well - still haven't heard from C.

Nurse plus student nurse just left, they are such lovely people - real angels. Leg sore and foot swollen. Will try and do my walk later - remember my grandmother used to say her bones ached when it was damp so maybe it's the rain's fault. Did try to go a bit further yesterday so perhaps will do the shorter one today. Desperately trying to get fit enough to return to work and am so aware of how hard colleagues will be stretched covering for 'one down'. They really are the most brilliant bunch of modest heroes.

Not heard from H - hope that doesn't bode ill. Not heard from R so ditto there. Am going to have a chat to fellow soldier's Mum when this is posted - hope all's well for her and every other soldier's Mum out there. It's just so comforting to have contact with her.

Speak soon. A soldier's Mum x

Monday 9 November 2009

Day 37 Week 7

The Remembrance Service in the village was wonderful. The turn out was enormous - never seen so many in attendance before. Our Vicar, who is so charismatic, gave the most wonderful sermon about an eighty five year old man who had tragically killed himself in a flying accident a couple of years ago, and when the vicar attended the funeral the widow had given him a diary. It turns out it was a log of the gentleman's war time exploits as an observer on Stirling bombers, and it was choc-a-bloc with vivid descriptions of active service and camaraderie between the close knit crew. The Vicar read extracts to the assembled congregation and it was utterly mesmerising following the war time experiences and contemplations from such a young man so long ago. Then the twist to the whole tale turned out to be that our vicar's late father was actually the pilot and skipper of the crew and their plane was lost on a mission with when they were stood down on leave for a week. The vicar had known none of the story before.

Sat in the church remembering the Christmas Day carol service by candlelight, when H, C, R and myself had sat clutching our jam jars in the late afternoon darkness, singing old favourites such as 'Oh little Town' and 'Once in Royal David's City'. And the vicar was dressed in his dressing gown with a tea towel on his head as he read the Nativity. It was blissfully eccentric and totally beguiling, such happy days.

Still heard nothing from C.

Just been talking to the lovely nurse about the importance of home. Her son and only child has just left for uni and we were discussing how necessary it is for our off spring to know that all is well and fine and just as it should be back in the nest. It's as if they need to touch base, be reassured and then they can go off and face whatever comes their way. Their confidence and comfort comes from the knowledge that whatever happens they can always go home. Must send another parcel out this week.

My fellow soldier's Mum has just sent me a message and cannot say how good that is. Her son fine too - well we're both in the position that we cling on to no news is a positive. Was speaking to a Paratrooper yesterday and he told me that as soon as someone is lost there is an immediate embargo on use of phones and computers in order to prevent the news being sent home before the families have been informed. So the awful reality is that when you do hear something via the media it is definitely someone else's grief - not to say that after being grateful your own is safe and well this time, you don't mourn for a stranger's loss.

Went through some old photos last night - heavens life seemed so much more simple in those days.

H has hopefully completed his vivat by now - hope all went well. R safely back from Huddersfield - apparently it's a long drive from London. I'm just off to do my exercise and hopefully everyone safe.

Speak soon. A soldier's Mum x

Sunday 8 November 2009

Day 36 Week 6

Remembrance Sunday. Another Rifleman killed. Eight taken in one week. May their souls RIP.

Even more anxious today as R is now driving up and down to Leeds in the day - weighing up the dangers of an eighteen year old girl driving for eight hours on the M1 coming back alone, versus active service in Helmund, I realise that as a family we appear to be riding our luck. Did tentatively ask why step brother couldn't take public transport, factoring in cost of petrol, only to be slapped down with the retort 'but he'd have to take three trains'. When I cast my mind back to my late teenage years seem to recall many hours on dark, damp railway stations, returning from visiting then boyfriend, on miserable Sundays. Not for the young of today.

Still heard nothing from C.

Watching the service at the Cenotaph am struck by the lack of barriers between the age groups. Young and not so young marching side by side - the fact that active service is no longer just an historical concept unites across the generations. The average age of a pilot during the Battle of Britain was nineteen years old, even younger than my boy. And here they are today remembering lost comrades.

Heard from H and he sits his final on Monday, and then later in the week is part of the Guard of Honour at the wedding of a friend. He's apparently done quite well during his time on Lusty and has been made senior something or other and his vivat is being recorded and sent to the Admiralty, at least I think that's what he said. All these snatched, brief conversations constrained by access and time - just want to sit down and talk freely with my kids and that's just not possible anymore.

During the Napoleonic wars when an soldier's skill and accomplishment were being recommended to Wellington, he'd listen to the testimonial and then simply ask 'yes, but is he lucky?'. Please God our luck doesn't run out.

Speak soon. A soldier's Mum x

Saturday 7 November 2009

Day 35 Week 5

Just heard from my new friend, who is also a soldier's mum, and thank goodness all is well with her. It's the most incredible privilege to talk to her because there is that sound knowledge that we each know precisely how the other one feels - total understanding without actually having to say a word. It sounds bizarre but I somehow feel safer when we share thoughts, it's as if her boy and mine are somehow together even if they're actually hundreds of miles apart. She's had the call with the shopping request and I shared the information another mum had shared with me - parcel free up to 2kg but size restrictions apply and anything bigger can be sent just you have to contribute. It would seem that there is a ritual all families and loved ones go through with the roundabout of deployment. Looming dread, anxious clock watching, arrival and then the call for supplies - wonder how many shoe boxes are being filled as I write this.

Heard nothing from C - still clinging onto no news equals good news but actually feel really sick all the time. C is somewhere in my mind every single minute of the day.

The village is looking absolutely splendid - all the shops have the Royal British Legion flag flying proudly above the door and we shall hopefully all gather to pay our respects tomorrow. The service consists of a mile parade down the High Street following the Girl's Brigade Band, with cubs and brownies and all the schools, including H, C and R's old ones, in attendance. Then it's to the war memorial for the wreath laying and ecumenical service in our ancient little church. I used to take the kids every year because I always felt we owed a huge debt to those who were prepared to protect us and lay down their life, but this year will definitely have special significance.

Heard from H last night. Lusty back in port. Was really brave and he made me laugh and then we talked about C and I did the unforgiveable and burst into tears. Then I sent H a text saying that it was just C was so unpredictable and prone to irrational, impulsive, idiotic acts (like the time he jumped to his feet and pointed the automatic umbrella in his sister's face and knocked out her front tooth; or the time he climbed up an old tree only to be followed by the inevitable crack and scream as he fell to earth; or the time he skateboarded down the hill on the main road and must have hit terminal velocity at the newsagent's; etc, etc, etc). It's just too scary to think what he could do in a split second. Except I didn't just send the text to H, I sent it to my group list (no specs, blind as a bat) and a friend rang and said 'Good to know Lusty back safe in home waters - have you been on the grape juice?'. Where would I be without my friends, good friends are priceless and make you laugh when you think you never will.

Moo home from uni and taking her step-brother back to college in Yorkshire. The day a delight so doing the constitutional.

Keep safe everyone please.

Speak soon. A soldier's Mum x

Friday 6 November 2009

Day 34 Week 5

A soldier from 3 Battalion the Rifles' was killed in a blast in Helmund yesterday, may he Rest In Peace. That's my son's Regiment. Have heard nothing so am desperately hoping C OK - and then consumed with guilt because I realise I'm hoping my own is safe possibly at the cost of another mother's child.

I heard the news last night from a cousin, who had been contacted by another cousin, to check which regiment C was with and she rang me and said 'have you heard anything from C?' And I said 'why?' and she said 'I'm so sorry but there's been an explosion'. To which I said 'anyone dead' and she said 'E I'm so sorry' and I felt my stomach fall away from my body. Then in the following few seconds, which took an age to pass, I thought 'I haven't heard anything and I should have done by now so he must be OK'. The selfish wish that my own was unharmed was the first overwhelming thought to counteract the terrifying news. Then my mind raced through the scenario; was my son there; was it a close comrade; what did those around have to deal with; will it happen again. I think I know the answer to the last one.

Then when I checked the news this morning saw that the loss had been overtaken by the massacre in Texas.

3 Rifles took over in Sangin from 2 Rifles, and apparently that's quite rare for one battalion to be replaced by another from the same regiment, consequently the handover ceremony was full of bonhomie. But now it's business as usual.

Saw that the Prime Minister has made a speech outlining how deep rooted corruption must be wiped out in Afghanistan.

Haven't heard from H. R home from uni and stressed about the bank changing her account from student to regular customer - apparently they're all knobs. C's friends coming to our village remembrance service on Sunday and now I'm going to have my bath as the nurse has just left.

The homefront has to hold it together for the sake of those away, and so may God Bless all those who are in danger and keep them protected from harm. Can't write any more today.

Speak soon. A soldier's Mum x

Thursday 5 November 2009

Day 33 Week 5

Today could be a very tearful day but will strive to be mindful of the need to remain positive - if only to present a public face to hide private misery. Terrible night's sleep. Fitful, fearful, frightful dreams.

There is an invisible link of empathy that runs between the families of our serving forces and I could not, for one moment put thoughts of those killed and injured out of my mind. Goodness only knows how their nearest and dearest are coping. Lots of prayers for everyone.

Then, this morning I was contacted by a complete stranger whose son 'went out' on Sunday, and she told me how she is experiencing all the tumult of responses that inevitably accompany the deployment - and also how difficult it was to adjust to the situation. It was so comforting reading how she felt because in a split second I was no longer alone. I then realised there must be thousands of us out there, tucked away, invisibly attempting to lead a 'normal life' but with the constant gnawing dread that something awful might happen. It's like inhabiting two parallel universes simultaneously, one consists of the humdrum duties of everyday life and the other of unforeseen terror. Still, for the sake of our loved ones, we have to emphasise the pride and minimise the fear, or at least try to.

Several months ago I was doing assessments in the library and when I looked up, to my surprise, there was a girl soldier in combats sitting reading a magazine by the door. Went up and spoke to her and she told me she was waiting for a friend, and that she was with the RMC attached to the Grenadiers, and also that she was 'going out' three weeks later. Saw her on the news last night. Isn't life strange.

Then had another e-mail this time from my gorgeous colleague at work who regaled me with hilarious tales of bird ringing and watching. I had no idea it was such an extreme sport. Do not be fooled by the anoraks, binoculars and sandwiches because twitchers are a vicious bunch of the ruthlessly ambitious. They are quite capable of trampling small children underfoot to be the first to log something rare and unexpected. Also there can be dark undertones of misogyny - some men think you can only recognise one species from another if you have testicles. Still, bless her because she made me do what I thought I was never going to do today, and I laughed out loud.

Spoke to my dearest friend who had received a letter from Afghanistan, she e-blueys C once a week and such support is priceless. Missed another call from H who this time left a message on the answerphone and sounded a bit down. The pressure must be really mounting up right now. And Moo sent a really sweet text from uni - always delighted when she's back being nice.

Going for my walk now and will pop into our church to pray.

Hope all safe and well.

Speak soon. A soldier's Mum x

Wednesday 4 November 2009

Day 32 Week 5

Five. Five soldiers shot dead by a 'rogue' who had infiltrated the Afghan police force. May their souls rest in peace.

Six. Six more injured. We see less of the injured but the scale of damage to personnel varies from a broken finger to the permanently vegetative state, and regularly includes loss of one or more body part.

Eleven. Eleven caught up in a tragedy, and heaven only knows how many people suffering in the trickle down pyramid of association. Grief and loss in abundance.

Someone told me to be proud and not afraid, but the truth is I'm both.

The day here in sunny Buckinghamshire is again enchanting and golden, and am working on building up stamina in my leg and trying to stand and walk for longer and longer, but after about half an hour my foot still looks like a zepelin and I have to stick it up on top of cushions. Am going to do the walk once the nurse has left and it's such a joy because the village is looking absolutely gorgeous. We're surrounded by the prettiest countryside in the Chilterns and there are so many varieties of trees that the colours are like an artist's pallet. Realise how lucky we were as a family to end up homeless in one of the most beautiful areas in England and wonder what would have become of us if we'd remained in Liverpool. It's funny how life sometimes just takes you by the hand and says 'here we go - we're off on the most incredible journey', and so it is.

Just opened the door to a new nurse and she took one look at me and said 'is you name E?', and I said it was, and she then asked 'how old are you?' and I replied with the f-word, and she then said 'my God you look so young'. Have never wanted to grab a complete stranger and waltz around my hall before but do now - truth is I feel ninety but always good to know it doesn't show.

Posted another parcel out - photos and chocolates - parcel hugging now mandatory. Not heard back from H - presume at sea again. R rang and asked if there was a bunch of keys in her room and became very defensive when I asked if she'd lost yet another set.

The house is like the set of a Hammer Horror at the moment because my poorly neighbour is out and consequently the dog has been howling since quarter to eight this morning, and it could send me insane if it continues for much longer.

Thank you so much to everyone who has written/sent things out to Afghanistan - you have no idea what it means to us all. C loves to hear about home.

Prayers again to St Therese

Speak soon. A soldier's Mum x

Tuesday 3 November 2009

Day 31 Week 5

Sometimes you just have to get on with things. My mother used to say that, 'stop dwelling and just get on with it', and am trying to apply it as thought for the day.

Realise I know how the day's going to feel from the moment I open my eyes and this morning I just felt exhausted. Not the 'gosh I feel a bit shattered today', but the 'oh my God I don't think I can't get out of bed' kind of tired. Then my mind flies like google Earth around the globe to foreign fields and suddenly realise I'm behaving like a spoilt brat feeling sorry for themselves. The bad times, do afterall, make the good times worthwhile.

It's raining so heavily today, like one of those days in childhood when the kids would don their wellington's to play puddle-splashing and they'd come in all drenched, with bright red faces and I'd peel their soaking clothes off and throw them in the bath. Then they'd sit on the sofa watching the telly consuming vast amounts of toast and jam.

Mindfulness, am going to try and work on mindfulness. The Buddha taught that the state of mindfulness was the seventh element of the Noble Eightfold Path, and that when applied it will help lead to liberation and enlightenment. Basically it means focussing the mind on the single moment of the here and now, and removing past memory and future concerns, in order to clear thoughts into the inner and outer aspects of consciousness. You kind of realise your brain is continually passing judgement, through an internal commentary on your musings and deeds, and by so doing is constraining and preventing happiness. So you shift the emphasis away from the inner judgemental voice, and often programmed response, to release the mind in order to allow it to find joy where otherwise there would just be fear and misery. At least I think that's the theory - will try and give it a go.

Missed a call from H so Lusty must be back in port. R hopefully safely back at uni. Cute AA man was an absolute hero and after nearly two hours worked his magic, disconnected my throttle sensor and replaced my coil - all sounds rather gynaecological not mechanical. Apparently car not dead but old and tired - know how it feels.

The cauliflower soup was delicious, how H, C and R used to love home made soup with lashings of hot french bread and butter. Isn't food evocative?

Lots of prayers for safety and well being of absent friends.

Speak soon. A sodlier's Mum x

Monday 2 November 2009

Day 30 Week 5

Well, my poor little car is possibly dead. Turned the engine over yesterday and she juddered and coughed and then there was the most awful burning smell and am waiting for the AA to arrive to examine the damage. My friend was with me and we leapt away from her as if she was about to explode like some ghastly scene from a disaster movie, but then realised the burning smell was exaggerated by someone having a tandoori barbeque nearby. Still she's obviously very poorly though and am waiting to find out if it really is the great garage in the sky.


Poor Tango-two-two-zero is an old lady now but when we first had her she was barely six months old and so pretty - the kids had such a kick out of her because my little old Fiesta was well and trully run into the ground and she was so bright and nippy and fun. She's taken me and them around the world nearly six times though (in mileage - not literally) and am sad to think the time may have come.

Wasn't intending to buy a car the day I got her, was actually going to buy a TV but saw her shining flame red in the sunshine on the garage forecourt, and fell in love. H and C were with me, C because he was a kind thoughtful child who was helping me and H because he was grounded for a month for some near-criminal activity which we won't go into now. H skulked like a monster and refused to test drive but C was full of enthusiasm and said 'can we get her mum?' and R took me on one side to remind me of the dangers of impulse buying - apparently it's a weakness of mine.

Both boys had their first driving experiences behind her wheel and she has been very kind and looked after us in situations that could have ended in disaster more than once. Why is it possible to become attached to inanimate objects? Do machines really have personalities or is it human nature to try to project personality onto lumps of metal and steel? My brother's metaphysical questioning is seeping through - I guess she's just a link with the past.

R back at uni, and the district nurse just left, and I'm making cauliflower soup. The day is one of beautiful golden autumnal sunshine again so I think I might go for my constitutional walk before the AA get here.

Saw another soldier was killed over the weekend. May God rest is soul.

Speak soon. A soldier's Mum x

Sunday 1 November 2009

Day 29 Week 5

Treat of treats this morning, lay in bed, wiggling my toes and drinking my tea listening to the rain falling outside. I've loved doing that ever since I was a child but then am suddenly awakened to the realities of the present day and wonder if C is outside in wet and hostile weather. I have this awful feeling of guilt whenever I indulge in something enjoyable and then realise my child could be suffering immense hardship - a friend said it was our Catholic upbringing, guilt is thrust upon us in the delivery room and just grows with the passing years.

I saw that the most senior officer to be killed in Afghanistan had been voicing concerns about soldier's lives being endangered because of lack of suitable equipment for the troops on the frontline. Also read that the bankers of the failed nationalised institutions are back awarding themselves huge bonuses, continuing the culture of excessive desire for more than they deserve or are entitled to. Our ethos now is obviously to exploit the good and pamper the undeserving.

Had a lovely afternoon with my brother yesterday. The day was idyllic and as part of my rehabilitation we went for a stroll along the river and chatted for hours for the first time in years. He's a physicist and was regaling me with tales of poles shifting and metaphysical dimensions - forgot how clever he was. Anyway apparently won't have to worry about Afghanistan for much longer because Obama is about to announce the existence of extra-terrestrials - I know you read it here first. I suppose a scientific inventor has to have an open mind and be able to think in an off the radar way, but actually not entirely convinced about the announcement which should be made in November. And if that wasn't bad enough according to the ancient Mayan civilisation the world will end on 21st December 2012, a date which ironically should have been my thirtieth wedding anniversary (always sensed there was something apocalyptic about my marriage). This is because there is an explosive cosmic alignment of planets thus affecting gravitational fields and a predicted increase in solar flares and I think something to do with dark matter - and Einstein had difficulty with that one. Phew.

We then took the little train along the river and I remember doing the same with C when he was small and he was allowed to sit in the cab with the driver.

Got to go now as R having her hair cut by the sister of one of H's oldest friends and their conversation is lively entertainment and therefore a bit distracting.

Being a bit derbrained today, hope to shake it off as the day continues. Please God all safe and well.

Speak soon. A soldier's Mum x