Day 90 Week 12

So a poor soldier did tragically die on New Year's Eve. May he RIP. He was with those anonymous angels called bomb disposal experts and he was blown up by an IED in Sangin, and so it was the dreadful toll was able to hit a hundred and eight killed in 2009. Don't want to play at this game anymore. Want it all to stop now.

Just had New Year's greetings from my oldest friend from all those days ago when we were kids in Nottinghamshire. I first encountered him when I was nine and he and his younger brother threw stones at me and my then best friend. I remember thinking 'what a horrid boy', but in the way of all twists and turns and thanks to the dreaded eleven plus, we ended up being in the small group of boys and girls who had to go to the school which required a bus journey. Those days on the B1 and C5 forged a connection which has seen us go in completely different directions but somehow each has always remained aware of the other. Still haven't fully forgiven him for running me over on his bicycle though.

Was beginning to feel extremely agitated that C hadn't rung home for so long and just after I heard from my friend the phone rang and low and behold Afghanistan calling.

Gosh he sounds utterly wiped. Here's the gist of the call.

Me: (Recognising the number) Hello gorgeous - how are you? (Trying to hide the merest wiff of negativity from the voice)

C: Yeh, pretty good, OK

Me: Have you had a hard week?

C: Yeh it's been fairly busy, lots to do but it's cool

Me: Have you had any sleep

C: Some - whenever we can

Me: I've sent another parcel out - which was the last one you got?

C: I think it was the cigarettes

Me: (By now blathering about anything in order to avoid expressing emotion and uncomfortable silences) Have you spoken to gorgeous K (girlfriend)

C: Yeh I have, yeh she's good. Tried to speak to H last night but couldn't get through

Me: He's in Edinburgh for Hogmanay why don't you try your grandmother's and see if he's there today

C: He's in Edinburgh, wow, lucky so and so

Me: (Trying to defuse the fact that H in Edinburgh and C most definitely not) When you come home I want a big kiss and loads of hugs and lots of honey (reference to when he was little and I would kiss the nape of his neck and call it the honey nest, but C must have misheard because he replied)

C: No Ma, when I'm home I'm just going to get drunk and stay plastered for two weeks so I won't be able to do anything else

My God. What has the poor boy experienced. Was stunned by the desperation in his tone. The pre-Afghan C would always socialise and go out for a beer with the boys but this was a creature saying he wanted to shut out reality and hide in oblivion. A friend of mine is a psychologist in Hampshire, which of course is a squaddie county, and she told me of the scores of hidden sufferers of post traumatic stress disorder with all the knock on effect on family and friends and the destruction it causes. Please God spare him that.

The day is gloriously sunny and R at her boyfriends, and they actually came home early last night. Heard from H and all terrific in Alba and I'm going to a drinks party at the charming old manse in the village, where nobody ever wants to leave.

Praying for the well being of body and soul of those exposed to heinous malevolence.

Speak soon. A soldier's Mum x