Day 63 Week 8

Extremely short blog as my little car (and I know it sounds ridiculous but also old buddy) has actually died. Far too complicated for me to understand what end went and blew what out, but alas tango-two-two-zero is no more. A dear friend, who used to be in the trade, was my knight in shining armour and has sorted out a new one for me, and all I have to do is pay for it. Success plucked from the jaws of disaster and am now the proud owner of one of those little 'citiminis' that looks like the Noddymobile and runs on air and costs next to nothing to tax. If this one turns out to be half as good and loyal as the last then I will be extremely fortunate and have nothing to complain about - literally the only time my old car broke down was the other week and prior to that nothing failed, just wear and tear.

Did a short walk around the village last night and it was like something out of Dickens, there was even a snow machine with the little children running through the artificial flakes. It looked for all the world like one of those European Christmas fairs and the pouring rain certainly did not spoil the fun.

Then R had her friends around as planned and I was banished to my bedroom with Andrew Marr and his brilliant history of the twentieth century. They were very well behaved and lots of giggling and gossip and 'oh-my-God-nooooooo', followed by 'yeh, like, I know', again followed by more oh-my-Godding. I think I must have been a very boring, serious teenager. I was allowed out of my cell for the lighting of the cake and the look of excited bewilderment on her face was just as it has always been, and then she got to make her wish.

H over the moon at passing and so excited about the rest of his training. He stays on at Dartmouth for the warfare bit, but will live a little more comfortably than he has done so far.

Not heard from C and have said my prayers for everyone in danger anywhere, to be please kept safe.

Raining again.

Speak soon. A soldier's Mum x