Twenty-nine weeks. Can't believe it was so long ago that he went out. Twenty-nine weeks and over two hundred days.
The profundity of it all really has not sunk in and am just praying for some news, any news, but obviously the most desperately wished for is that he is safe and sound and back in the UK. But still nothing.
The bush-telegraph at home is well and truly activated and everyone keeping in touch with each other either via e-mail or phone but no one seems to know anything.
Think I might ring the regiment tonight.
Heard from H and he briefly said the US was fantastic but is concerned as his friend is unwell. H still not heard from the Navy re confirmation as to what they want to do with him, and so he may flukily be home next weekend, by when hopefully C might just have made it home too. R upstairs in recovery watching emergency Hollyoaks omnibus and actually being really sweet.
Fellow soldier's Mum hanging on to every minute too and nice new friend coming over after dropping his son off. Ankles still poo.
We're still praying Lord.
Speak soon. A soldier's Mum x
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